


Escape

by Star_trekkin_across_theuniverse



Series: Escape [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_trekkin_across_theuniverse/pseuds/Star_trekkin_across_theuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter Quill wears out Awesome Mix (Volume 1), he drags the team to Terra to find someone to repair it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Pinnnnnnaaaaaaaa Coooooollllaaaaadaaaaaaaaaaaas –“ The tape was distorted, stretched. It was to be expected after 25 years of constant use. In fact, it was a miracle it had last as long as it had. Peter knew that, but it made his heart ache to know that Awesome Mix (Volume One) was worn thin. It was one of the only things he had left from life on Terra. He had even less to remind him of his mother, who was beautiful right up until the last breath escaped her. He rubbed at his chest absently and wondered out loud if the air filters in the Milano needed changing. His eyes were irritated, and kept watering. He walked out of the cockpit, muttering about space dust and allergies.

Gamora rolled her eyes, but elbowed Rocket in the ribs when he moved to contradict Peter. Rocket scowled at her. “What? He’s crying!” His whispered.

“And you watered Groot for months with your tears. Yet you won’t let us remind you of it,” she scolded. Rocket glanced at Groot, still and stoic. He was growing at least. It was a good thing the salt tears hadn’t killed him. 

Peter reappeared and took over the controls, keying in a long sequence of coordinates wordlessly. Rocket shot a worried look at Gamora, then one at Drax. They weren’t coordinates that he recognized immediately, and they were distant. He brought up the destination on the console in front of him and threw his hands up in disgust.

“Terra? A whole universe to look after, and we’re headed to Terra? Shoot me now!” Rocket bellowed. Drax looked up, concerned. He was slowly becoming used to the rest of the group’s use of hyperbole and exclamation, but he still had difficulty discerning when they were serious. When he saw that neither Peter nor Gamora had moved to kill their crewmate, he relaxed.

“Someone there will know this tech. Someone there will be able to help me restore my cassette,” Peter explained. They shot into hyperdrive and left Knowhere behind.

XXX

A jangle of bells warned Roxanne that she had a customer. She ran her hand through her hair and tied it back before leaving the shop books in the backroom and coming to the counter. The music store had been her salvation for years, and as much as she hated to admit it, it wasn’t making money. Not anymore. Not now that mp3s and iPods and digital music was taking over. She kept it open as a hobby, paid her staff because they were passionate about music. But sooner or later, she was going to have to consider closing the doors. It would be the end of an era. When the store had opened, in 1978, it had been part of a big chain. When the chain had gone under in 2001, Roxanne had been quick to buy the location. It was a standalone shop on a busy retail street. At the time, the street was on a downturn, but the whole hipster thing had happened and now it was the cornerstone of a quirky consumer renaissance. They specialized in vinyl, but also carried used CDs, cassettes, and stereo equipment. When Roxanne had purchased the building, she’d gained access to the basement. That turn of events had been what made keeping the store open worthwhile. There were literally thousands of dollars of merchandise that had never seen the light of day down there. Albums that had been critical failures by bands that had fallen apart and then gained cult status, band t-shirts that had been written off for loss because there were only three size smalls left. They’d rebuilt the store into something new, and gained a reputation as being helpful, friendly and having a quirky variety of hard to find items. It made them one of the most popular music stores in Portland. And if Roxanne wasn’t crazy about the hipsters that paid the bills, she never really let anyone see it. It just wasn’t her scene. At thirty-four she’d already seen the world, been chewed up and spit out and found out what was important in life. She remembered the music the hipsters were frothing at the mouth for when it first came out. She often laughed to the guys that she was a hipster before it was cool to be a hipster.

The guy who’d walked in was not a hipster. His legs weren’t skinny enough, first off. His pants were some multi-pocket variety, but they weren’t loose like cargos usually were. They very nearly clung to his thighs. Roxanne felt her mouth go dry, and she quickly looked up. T-shirt, ox-blood leather biker jacket. Definitely not a hipster. His t-shirt was just a touch too tight, and his pecs were just a touch too perfect. She swallowed thickly and looked at his face. Guys with bodies that great usually didn’t have great faces.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. He was gorgeous. She couldn’t tell if his hair was red, or brown, and settled on calling it auburn. It didn’t matter really; it was his jaw that knocked her out. Strong, chiseled, and with the exact perfect amount of stubble. He walked with confidence, and Roxanne felt her interest deflate. Hot guys with that much swagger were usually total d-bags. She plastered her best customer service smile on her face, cursing the Sunday girl for no-showing for her morning shift.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She tried to look as bland as possible. It wasn’t going to be hard. She was dressed for bookkeeping in the back. Ratty band t-shirt that was three sizes too big, garish print leggings. No make-up, hair up in a severe ponytail. The guy leaned on the counter, and smiled. Predatory. Roxanne shuddered.

“My cassette needs repair.” He had a peculiar accent that she couldn’t place. Midwest maybe? Sorta-south?

“Your cassette? The deck?” She tried to clarify.

“No, the tape. It’s stretched.” He pulled it out of his jacket and placed it reverently on the counter between them. It was well worn, the plastic case scuffed, the hand-lettered label peeling up on one corner. It had to be twenty years old if it was a day, but it was in better shape than any of the cassettes she might have had hidden away under her bed.

“You can’t repair tape that’s stretched. You need to replace the whole thing,” she explained. Cassettes were really old technology. Maybe he didn’t remember. Or maybe he was younger than he looked. The rumpled vulnerability that fell across his face took at least five years off her guess. She’d figured he was her age. But thirty would be young enough to not quite remember cassettes well enough to remember how easily mix tapes got wrecked.

“But I need to repair it.” His accent was really distracting. Roxanne made eye contact with him, and immediately wished she hadn’t. There was panic in his eyes, and she watched him blink, trying to stem the tears that were welling up.

“The best I can do is burn you a CD of the stuff on the tape or load it to an mp3 player. If the case has liner notes from whoever made it for you, I could probably do that by tomorrow,” she blurted, trying to stop his reaction. He blinked slowly and narrowed his eyes.

“A CD?”

“Compact disc. It was the industry standard for, like, 20 years.” Roxanne quirked an eyebrow at the guy. Hot, but weird. They always have something wrong with them. No matter how pretty and flawless they seem, men always had something wrong with them once you peeled back the layers.

“Right,” he responded. He almost looked like he was following her. “My, uh, vehicle. It doesn’t have a CD player.”

“Ooh! Well no wonder you seemed confused. A CD’s not gonna help much, is it? And really, CDs aren’t the industry standard anymore anyhow. If you have an mp3 player, I could load it on that, and if you don’t have a cassette converter, I just so happen to have a few on clearance,” Roxanne felt a bit like an idiot, but the feeling passed quickly, as she realized the guy was staring blankly at her again.

“You’re gonna have to start over. And this time, speak English.” He was definitely weird. And where was that damn accent from, anyhow? She’d been all over the States, and through Canada, and she couldn’t place that accent.

“Where’ve you been for the last ten years? Russia?” Roxanne realized it sounded rude, but the guy was weirding her out a little. And after nearly twenty years working at this particular music store, that was saying something.

“Something like that. Listen. How about you pretend I am a complete idiot. I will also pretend I am a complete idiot. But I am a complete idiot that wants the music on that cassette, and I’m a complete idiot that will spend a ridiculous amount of money to ensure I have it. Can you set me up with a way to have that music, and listen to it, in my vehicle and when I’m out? You know, doing stuff?” He asked. Roxanne nodded.

“Sure. I’m going to assume you need a whole digital set-up. Gimme twenty-four hours and I’ll have it sorted for you,” Roxanne said. “Actually, make it 48. I have some stuff tonight.”

“It have anything to do with this?” He pointed at a flyer sitting by the cash register. “Starlady and the Astronauts, Live at the Aladdin.” 

“It might.” Roxanne smirked.

“They any good?” He asked. Roxanne took pity on him. She was curious what she was going to find on the cassette because the guy seemed oblivious to modern technology. So maybe the rock he crawled out from under hadn’t kept up with the times.

“Can I tell you a secret? On their last tour, the lead singer from Pixie Stix discovered that one of the guys in their opening act had a master’s degree in astronomy. They then discovered that another big band had a guy with a PhD in metallurgy. When the tour was over, they all got together and started jamming about space and stuff, and one thing led to another and they decided to do a show. They’re all still with their bands and all. But it’s like an alt-pop Traveling Wilburys. And maybe the names involved are smaller,” Roxanne explained.

“Who are the Pixie Stix?” He asked. Roxanne quirked an eyebrow again.

“Russia? Or outer fucking Mongolia? They’re the biggest thing to come out of Portland in years,” Roxanne exclaimed, pointing to a life-sized cardboard cut out from the band’s recent release. The guy shrugged. She felt a shudder of embarrassment for her outburst, but he didn’t seem the least bit fazed.

“I guess I just love the classics,” he admitted. Roxanne smiled.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” she agreed. “I’m gonna need your name, and some way to contact you.”

“Peter Quill. I haven’t set up contacts yet. I’ll just come by in a couple of days.” He picked up a copy of the concert flyer and stuck it in the same pocket he’d been storing the cassette.

“Okay, Pete. I’ll have your system ready for you on Tuesday. If I’m not at the counter, ask for someone to grab Roxanne.” She scribbled a few notes on a post-it and stuck it to the cassette. He smiled, and once again, Roxanne was struck with how hot he was. 

“I’ll see you Tuesday, Roxanne.” He wandered over to the Pixie Stix stand-up. “Why can’t you see their faces?”

“Look at the name of the album,” Roxanne explained.

“Everyman?” He read off the bottom of the stand-up. “Oh, I get it. Cool. How big are they? Like, local gig big?”

“Major label and selling out stadiums big. Triple platinum album big,” Roxanne could feel herself blushing.

“And they did their most recent record launch here?” Peter asked, as though he didn’t think it possible.

“They’re really active in the local scene, despite their success. Give back to the community, and all that.” Roxanne blurted.

“And the lead singer is sneaking out to do a concert with a bunch of other dudes tonight?” He pressed.

“Yeah,” Roxanne nodded. “It’ll be pretty awesome. But remember, it’s a secret.” Roxanne contemplated correcting his assumption that the lead singer was a guy, but changed her mind. He probably wasn’t going to the concert anyhow. Mr. I guess I just love the classics was probably going to sit in his mother’s basement and listen to Barry Manilow.

“Sure,” he nodded. Roxanne rummaged around in the box behind the counter to try to find a cassette deck while Peter looked around the store. The bell jangled, letting her know he’d left, and she headed to the back to find what she was looking for.

XXX

The din in the bar was just as loud as anything he’d heard in any bar anywhere else in the galaxy. Some things were universal, he supposed. He made his way to the bartender and ordered a beer before he made his way through the crowd of people and over to a table near the front of the stage. He was glad he’d left his jacket on the Milano. It was hot, and either there was no air conditioning or it couldn’t keep up with the crowd. It seemed, to Peter, that maybe more than just he knew about this special band line-up. The crowd was filled with excited conversation. But when he strained to listen in, he discovered that most people had come just because they loved live music. He never once heard the name Pixie Stix, and he almost thought maybe they weren’t a big deal until a girl in a tank top splashed with their name sat down at his table.

“This seat taken?” She dropped her purse on the table and started rooting around for something inside it. 

“Well, no, but –“

“Awesome. Have you heard of this group before? I haven’t heard of this group before. At least, I don’t think I have. But the Aladdin always books good bands, so I figured, even though it’s a Sunday, it’s worth coming. I hope it’s a good band.” She spoke too quickly, and Peter had a hard time keeping up. She pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse and lined her lips, making an elaborate show of blotting on the cocktail napkin beside Peter’s drink. He raised an eyebrow. “I heard that the guitarist tonight is from Dr. Schrödinger’s Kitty.”

“I have no idea who that is,” Peter admitted.

“Oh my god, seriously? They opened for Pixie Stix on their European tour last spring,” she explained. “The guitarist is some sort of super smart science dude. Apparently everyone in the group is. I think I’ve figured out where the bass and drum players are from, just by googling Portland science and music, but I can’t figure out the lead singer.”

“What the fuck is a google?” Peter asked. The girl looked at him and shook her head. Before she could answer, the band came out on stage and launched into their first set. The audience cheered as they recognized some of their favourite local musicians, and Peter took a slug from him beer. They were good. There was no singer on stage, which Peter thought was weird until he heard the vocals starting. When the singer ran on stage at the swell of the end of the first verse, the crowd went nuts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, THAT’S ROXY RAIN!” The girl grabbed his arm and shook him. When he looked blankly at her, she pointed at her chest and flicked her tank top at him. “From Pixie Stix!”

“The lead singer from Pixie Stick is a woman?” He asked. The girl furrowed her brow and shook her head.

“Where have you been for the last five years?” She grabbed her purse and moved to another table, closer to the stage. Peter felt himself getting more into the music as the set progressed, and when the opening riffs of Moonage Daydream came on he realized that they’d been alternating covers of space-themed songs with original music. He liked it all, but the familiarity of some of the songs caused a flood of memories to rush forward. Things he hadn’t thought about in years, since leaving Terra. The lyrics of the song pulled at him back to reality and he found himself watching the lead singer, watching her movements, and the way she sang. It was no wonder her band was huge. Her stage presence was amazing and she was hot. He felt a tug of lust and recognized that that feeling also probably helped boost album sales. The lead singer of Pixie Stix was sexy, she knew it, and she used it.

He got lost in the music and roared to his feet with the rest of the crowd at the end of the concert. On the way out, he willingly dropped the cash for a t-shirt before heading back to the ship. 

Once back on the Milano, he flopped down in the pilot’s chair and spun around to face the crew, dopey grin plastered on his face.

“Did you meet a woman? I thought you said you were going to go listen to music?” Gamora immediately began interrogating him.

“I saw a band play. They were awesome,” he sighed. “Their lead singer was super hot. I want to meet her.”

“So meet her,” Rocket shrugged.

“Not really that easy. She’s a rockstar. Like, hugely famous,” Peter explained. 

“How do we find out more about her? Track her down? I would take her for you,” Drax offered.

“Somebody said something about the google tonight. I don’t know what the google is, but it apparently has information about musicians on it,” Peter offered.

“Seriously kid, how long has it been since you’ve been back to Terra? Google is a online information system, linking most of Terra,” Rocket explained.

“Like the info bank on the Milano?” Peter asked. 

“Yeah. Only with information exclusive to Terra,” he continued. Peter leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin.

“I’ve got another day to wait until my cassette will be fixed. We should find a google portal so I can search for her.” He chewed his lip.

“You said yourself she’s hugely famous. You won’t be able to find her using this info bank. Famous people guard their privacy, Peter,” Gamora scoffed. Peter shrugged. “If you want to work your questionable sexual magic on the women of Terra, maybe choose one who is more attainable.”

“Well, maybe I can just get a new poster then.” He pushed himself out of his chair and headed to his bunk. His ears were still ringing from the concert and he had a lot of questions for Roxanne from the music store when he saw her next. He’d apparently missed out on a lot of music, if the concert was any indication.


	2. Chapter 2

Roxanne sat in her office, a stack of records in front of her. After figuring out what all was on Peter’s cassette, she’d rummaged through the back catalogue in the basement and pulled as many of the vinyl copies of the songs as she could find. She was only missing one or two. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was going to such trouble, maybe it was the panicked look he’d given her when she’d said she couldn’t repair the cassette, but she wanted to rip each song from the record, instead of just downloading a cleaned up mp3 copy of the song. She’d already picked a used iPod from the stack on her desk and reformatted it, so it was just a matter of getting the music. Whoever had made the mix tape had good taste. It was a pretty awesome collection of seventies music. She connected the turntable to her laptop and started the process of digitizing while working on the books.

There was the occasional interruption from staff, but they were pretty good about leaving her alone when she was actually in the store. She’d spent a lot of time interviewing staff for the store because she didn’t want to constantly be bothered for trivial issues. Most of her staff had been there since she’d bought the place. She’d been diligent about ensuring they were capable of managing if her other interests took her away, and she’d ensured that bonuses and raises accompanied years of service and added responsibilities. Having a low turnover in the store was better for everyone involved. With the exception of the Sunday girl, who was going to find herself the no-day girl if she didn’t show for another shift, Roxanne would have been hard pressed to complain about anyone on the staff. They were so good that it allowed her to continue to manage the important details, like the bookkeeping she was working on while she made Peter’s mix, without bringing in an outside contractor. And it was those little things that made her more inclined to try to make the store work, despite just breaking even most quarters. 

“Rox, there’s a chick up front looking for info about Starlady and the Astronauts? She’s wondering if there’s going to be an album?” Jeremy had worked the store since he was in high school, and was nearly finished his accounting degree. He said there were a bunch of different certifications within accounting, and he’d still be a couple of years before he was fully where he wanted to be with his education. Roxanne often worried that working at the shop was preventing him from moving forward with his life. He argued that the shop was the perfect place for a university student. He had plenty of time to study, he was making a decent wage, and he loved what he was doing. But he also didn’t talk about what would happen when he finally finished pursuing all his academic dreams.

“There’s a bootleg of last night’s concert available on their website, but right now there’s no plans to release an album,” Roxanne croaked, her voice hoarse from the previous night. The concert had been amazing. As expected, when the crowd recognized all the big names on the stage, the place had gone nuts. She’d tried to see if Peter had made it, but the venue was dark and crowded, and once the band had started it was just too much to keep track of. She changed records and started on the next song, getting back to bills and payroll. The afternoon rolled by quickly. Jeremy brought pizza back at closing and sat with her to help finish up payroll. He’d been helping with the bookkeeping since he’d started university, and Roxanne paid him a little extra to help when she was too busy to manage. They’d already agreed he’d take over all the account management stuff once he finished school, as a contractor. It meant she would still have someone she trusted working with her. 

“Is it oldies night? I’ve been loving everything that’s been playing this afternoon. I kinda wanted to patch it through on the store speakers,” he commented through a bite of pizza.

“I had a customer come in yesterday with a worn out mix tape. He was really broken up about it. I don’t know why, but my heart just went out to him. I figured ripping everything from the vinyl would make the transition from cassette to mp3 easier for him,” Roxanne offered, reaching for her own slice.

“A mix tape? That’s so eighties!” Jeremy laughed.

“Hey, watch it, puppy!” Roxanne protested. “Mix tapes were a serious sign of undying affection. Someone spent time on a mix tape for you, it meant they loved you. There was an art to them. Getting the timing between songs right, picking the right music to go together. We didn’t have shuffle back then, you got the songs in the order they were on that cassette.”

“How romantic,” Jeremy deadpanned. Roxanne rolled her eyes.

“My brother made me a mix tape every birthday from the time I was five on. It wasn’t just romance. Mikey was older than me so he was giving me a music education. You can thank all this,” Roxanne gestured around the store, “to my big brother making me mix tapes.”

“So this guy you’re doing this for. Is he hot?” Jeremy asked. Roxanne blushed and looked away.

“Doesn’t matter. It was the tears in his eyes that motivated me,” she argued.

“If an ugly dude had come in and cried about his mix tape, would you have taken the challenge?” Jeremy pressed. Roxanne folded her arms across her chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes I would have. Because this guy might have been hot, but he had d-bag written all over him,” Roxanne countered. “And I avoid d-bags.”

“Well, you try, but you certainly have a weakness where a hot asshole is concerned,” Jeremy laughed. “Rox, I don’t get it. You’re gorgeous, you’re successful. You could be hanging out at your place, poolside, with a cabana boy fanning you with a palm frond while you drank slushy alcoholic bevvies. Instead you’re here, balance the books and making a mix tape for a dude you don’t even know.”

“You know I don’t have a pool,” Roxanne dismissed with a laugh.

“My point is, you don’t have to do this anymore. You’ve hit the jackpot and cashed the check, Rox. Why don’t you enjoy it?” Jeremy pressed.

“Because this store is all I had. And I love it,” she shrugged.

XXX

“The Terrans will put me in a cage and stab me with needles. I ain’t fucking going!” Rocket threw himself into a chair and glared at Peter.

“But you know about the google!” Peter protested. 

“No. Go to a library and ask to be shown how to use it. I’m not going with you!” Rocket declared and turned his head away. Peter threw up his hands in disgust and turned to Gamora.

“My skin is green. I’m not stupid enough to think they won’t notice,” she arched an eyebrow.

“I saw people with tattoos and all colours of hair last night, Gamora, no one will notice your skin,” Peter tried to reason with her.

“Peter, I’m not going to help you in your quest to procreate with one of every being in the galaxy. If you want to go research this woman, go on your own.” Gamora was firm. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes.

“For your information, I’ve already been with a Terran.” Peter grabbed his rucksack and headed out. 

The library wasn’t far. It seemed nothing was really far in the cities in Terra, despite the overdependence on vehicles. Peter smiled at the librarian and explained what he needed, pulling out his most charming manners. She was more than happy to help him get set up with a computer, and slipped him a piece of paper with a string of numbers on it. A phone number, if he remembered correctly. “One of every being in the galaxy indeed,” he grumbled as he typed his query into the search engine.

The main page for the band was all explosions, and graphics, and tour dates. It didn’t really help him to find out more about the band, or specifically, about Roxy Rain. He backed out of that page, and picked the next page. It was laid out like an encyclopedia entry, with information about when the band was formed, how many albums they’d released, what kind of tours they’d done. When he got to the band members section, he clicked the link for the lead singer and a similar page for her opened. He read through all the background and history, how she’d grown up singing in a girl’s choir, formed her first band as a teenager, played her first concert instead of going to prom. But there was no information on where to find her. And all the photos of her were promotional shots, where she was artistically backlit or on stage and her wild hair was everywhere. There was one shot that Peter particularly liked where her hair was dyed all the colours of the rainbow. It had been blonde with hot pink undertones at the concert.

He noticed the sidebar on the page held all the important details about her. Roxanne Raintree. “That’s weird,” he muttered to himself. How did he encounter two women with the same name in one day? He went back to reading the rest of the information in the body of the entry, tapping the pencil the librarian had given him against his teeth. There was nothing there was would suggest he would be able to find her on his own, other than the article saying she lived in Portland and ever since the band’s first platinum album, had focused a lot of her free time on supporting the independent music scene in the city. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The librarian came around to check on him.

“Oh, you’re reading up on Pixie Stix? I’m not really a fan. I heard Roxy Rain did a concert with some other musicians last night though,” she offered.

“Yeah, it was good. I’d never heard of Pixie Stix before yesterday, but the name of the band last night intrigued me,” Peter admitted. 

“Star something, right?”

“Starlady and the astronauts.” He pulled out the flyer. The librarian took a look at it and handed it back.

“She probably hand lettered it the flyer. She cut out a lot of costs when Pixie Stix was starting. Just by word of mouth advertising and drawing band flyers. A lot of people still get her to do their flyers for them. I might not like their music, but they give back a lot. So I buy at least one single every release, just on principle.” The librarian was turning out to be more informative than the google had been.

“Really? If I was in a band, and I wanted my poster lettered, how would I find her?” Peter asked.

“Honey, if you were in a band, you would know who Pixie Stix were!” She laughed. “The Vinyl Frontier usually can track her down. It’s on –“

“I know where it is. I was in there yesterday,” Peter interrupted and stood up.

“You’re not a psycho stalker or something, are you?” The librarian’s brow was knit in concern. He laughed.

“No,” he shook his head. She didn’t appear to buy it. “Can I tell you a secret? The truth is, I’ve got this friend, and he’s a huge fan. And he’s really sick. So I thought, if I could get her autograph, maybe that would make him feel better,” he explained. “It’s, like, really sad.”

“You are so sweet!” The librarian clutched a hand to her chest and tilted her head. She ran a hand down his arm. Peter smiled, flexing the muscles of his forearm as her hand ran across it. Her eyes widened and met his, and he flashed his most charming grin before standing.

“Thank you again for all you help,” he paused to read her nametag, “Sondra. I appreciate it.”

XXX

Peter had put his restraint to the test and just waited until Tuesday morning to head back to the record store. It was sorely testing his restraint though. He kept seeing the image of Roxy Rain in his head, the tight bustier she’d worn on stage, the thigh high boots. How she wasn’t every pubescent Terran male’s fantasy, he was unsure, but he hadn’t been able to find a poster of just her anywhere. There were plenty of posters with the whole band, but he was thinking more along the lines of the Farrah Fawcett on a Corvette poster his granddad had up in the garage when he was a kid. Something that was just Roxy Rain, looking as sexy as she had on stage.

The bells on the door jangled as he walked in and a tall skinny kid looked up from a textbook at the counter. “Heya.”

“Hi. Is Roxanne in? I dropped of a cassette with her on Sunday –“

“Oh, seventies power tape guy! Sure, yeah, hold on,” the kid interrupted and picked up the phone sitting beside him. He typed something in and looked back up at Peter. “She’s picking through inventory in the basement. She’ll be right up.”

Peter nodded and looked over the kid’s shoulder to the flyers lining the wall behind the cash desk. They were all hand lettered, the same block printing in the bottom left corner giving the details of each concert they advertised. He thought about what the librarian had said and realized the flyers must all be Roxy Rain’s work.

“Same artist do all those posters?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. She apparently never runs out of energy. A million things on the go all the time,” he laughed. Roxanne crashed through the door to the back in a cloud of dust, carrying a box that was stacked high with posters and what looked like t-shirts.

“Jer, come give me a hand, I’ve got another box downstairs. Listen, it’s October, and I just dug out all this Thriller stuff, do you think we can move it? I have promo materials here from when the album came out. I think we have at least a dozen copies of it on vinyl.” Roxanne hadn’t noticed Peter over the mountain of merchandise in her arms. He grabbed the box from her and brought it up to the counter for Jeremy. Jeremy pointed to the floor beside the desk and scurried to the door to help Roxanne with the rest.

“It’s also the 30th anniversary of Ghostbusters, Rox, it might be a good Halloween tie in,” he took the next box from Roxanne and leaned over the top of it. “Seventies mix tape guy is here. And he’s smokin’ hot. No wonder you wanted to help him. You could bounce a quarter off that ass. Please let me know if you wind up bouncing a quarter off that ass.”

“Jeremy!” Roxanne hissed, barely containing a laugh. “I already told you –“

“Well for my sake then, I hope he’s gay,” Jeremy interrupted. Roxanne didn’t manage to contain the laugh. Peter looked up from the desk and smiled.

“Hey, Pete. I’m just gonna grab everything from my desk, and we’ll go over it,” Roxanne called and leaned back to where she’d left the iPod. She tossed everything she’d put together for him in a small box and came to the counter. “Okay, first things first. Do you still want me to speak to you like you are a complete idiot?”

“That would probably be a good plan,” Peter nodded. 

“This is an iPod. It’s a type of mp3 player made by Apple –“

“The Mac people? Man, I used to love playing Oregon Trail in school. Is it weird to admit that? Is it weirder to admit it because I’m actually in Oregon?” Peter interrupted. Roxanne paused, unsure how to answer that.

“Yeah. The same people,” she paused. “Anyhow, iPod. It’s like a tiny computer that stores digitized music files on it. I ripped all the songs from the tape –“

“You ripped my tape?” Panic caused Peter to interrupt again. 

“No, it’s a, forget it. I didn’t rip your tape. I converted all the songs from your tape from the original vinyl to an mp3 file. I didn’t clean them up or anything, so they’ll have the same quality of sound to them that the cassette had. I put the whole mix tape on the iPod in a playlist called ‘Awesome Mix, Volume 1’. So that’s the cassette part of things.” Roxanne handed the cassette back to Peter, and watched as the tension melted out of his shoulders. She kind of wanted to know why the damn thing was so important. “So here’s where things get complicated. Without knowing what kind of stereo is in your car, it’s hard to figure out what you need to connect the iPod to the system. I’ve included a bunch of cables and stuff, but your best bet might be to just use the cassette converter. You plug it in just like a regular cassette, and then plug this part into the headphone jack. You’ll need to keep a power supply going to the iPod too, but you could connect the charging cable to the power socket or lighter.”

“Cool. What about if I’m not in the vehicle and want to listen to music?” Peter asked.

“Just make sure it’s charged and plug your headphones into it.” Roxanne pulled out a plastic wrapper from the pocket of her baggy cargo pants. “I slip mine into this when I go running so I don’t have to carry it. I included a protective case for the iPod. Don’t get it wet. Mp3 players are way fussier than older portable music players. I mean, they’re way better than a Discman, but I beat my Walkman into submission as a kid and it always kept working.”

“Yeah, I still have mine,” Peter admitted. The iPod slipped out of Roxanne’s hand and clattered onto the counter.

“You still have a Walkman?” She asked. Her tone made Peter feel awkward. 

“So I went to that concert last night.” He changed the subject. Roxanne beamed up at him, making him feel even more awkward.

“I was wondering if you’d made it. I didn’t see you, but it was a madhouse.” She slipped the iPod into the protective sleeve for him as she talked. “Did you enjoy it?”

“They were really great. That lead singer was something else,” he admitted. He thought he caught Roxanne blushing, but she was pushing her hair out of her face and couldn’t quite tell.  
“There’s a bootleg of the concert on their website. It’s five bucks. The money all goes to a youth arts program here.” She dropped the iPod back into the box of stuff.

“Would I need another iPod for that, or –“

“Nah, I can upload it onto your iPod right now, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes. You can store about 30 hours of music on this. Follow me.” She grabbed the iPod and led him back to the staff room. While he watched, she connected the iPod to her laptop and with a few keystrokes, sat back at appraised him. “So what’s your story, Peter Quill? You don’t strike me as a complete idiot, if I’m completely honest with you. So why don’t know you about mp3 players?”

Peter smirked. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He looked around, at the walls papered in concert flyers. “Are they collectible?”

“The flyers?” Roxanne asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed. “Are they collectible because of who does the art? Is that why you’ve got them all over back here and at the counter?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Not that I know of? I just like having them around so I know what I’ve done for other concerts when I’m drawing up new ones.” Roxanne surveyed the wall and pointed at a clear spot at the desk.

“You did these?” Peter asked. He looked at her again, and caught a hint of pink peeking out from under her blond hair. His heart hammered in his chest. Roxanne laughed.

“Yeah. A girl has to do what a girl has to do to make ends meet. It used to be thin times. The flyers paid my bills when I was living in the basement here,” she admitted.

“I thought Roxy Rain did them?” He asked. Roxanne laughed.

“You’ve been doing your homework, Pete! How cute are you?” She unplugged the iPod and handed it to him. “We’ll square you away up at the till.” She moved toward the door to the store. Peter put his hand on her shoulder and furrowed his brow as he looked at her.

“You’re Roxy Rain?” He was dumbstruck.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“From the Pixie Stix?” He prompted. 

“Yeah.” She nodded again.

“Okay, like you said on Sunday, I basically just crawled out from under a rock in outer Mongolia, but you’re the lead singer for the most successful band in all of Terra right now.” There was a pinching between Peter’s eyebrows that warned him he was going to get a headache.

“Where the fuck is Terra?” Roxanne asked.

“I mean, the entire world. Most successful band in the world right now,” he corrected and mentally kicked himself.

“Well, we’re not U2. But we do have the number one album on the Billboard chart right now,” Roxanne confirmed.

“Why the hell are you working in a record store?” Peter asked.

“I own it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Peter didn’t quite know how to respond, Roxanne could see it all over his face. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. Roxanne just waited, sure he’d find his voice soon enough. And he did.

“That makes no sense,” he blurted.

“That I own a record store? Why not?” Roxanne asked. She wanted to laugh, but waited it out.

“You’re a rock star. Why would you continue to work at your store?” The emphasis he put on ‘rock star’ made him sound so impossibly young that Roxanne began to wonder again about his age. She pursed her lips and fought the amusement that was fighting its way to the surface.

“Fame is fleeting, Pete. This may have been my salvation when the band was struggling, but it’s also part of my retirement plan,” Roxanne shrugged. Peter nodded, but she could tell from the look on her face that he didn’t really understand what she was saying. “What is it that you do, Pete?”

“I’m in acquisitions.” His answer was way too fast to be true. Roxanne raised an eyebrow.

“And yet you still use a tape deck?” She questioned. He looked away and then back to her.

“Can I buy you lunch, Roxy Rain?” He changed the subject. Roxanne hesitated. He wasn’t what she’d really expected. He wasn’t nearly the d-bag she’d been anticipating. At the same time, he just asked her stage persona out. Not her. She had a pretty ironclad ‘no groupies’ rule.

“That depends, Pete. Did you want to get lunch with me, or with the rock star?” She asked. He suddenly flashed a smile and Roxanne was taken with how hot he was. Maybe she would break the groupie rule, just once. 

“Truth be told, I’d be too nervous around a rock star. So maybe if you could just stay you, that would be alright,” Peter admitted. 

“Sure. I’ll just grab my purse.” Roxanne disappeared into the back. She stopped at the cash desk and looked at the box of stuff she’d put together for Peter. “Did you want to take this now, or do you want to leave it until after lunch?”

Peter glanced at the box and Roxanne could see that he was wrestling with grabbing his tape from the pile of stuff in the box. He finally left it and looked up at her. “I can pay after lunch. What’s good to eat around here?”

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” Roxanne asked. Peter shook his head and placed his hand at the small of her back as he led her out of the store. A prickle of interest raced up her spine.

“Like I said. I work in acquisitions. I travel a lot,” he explained. Roxanne tried not to call him on the obvious lie, instead leading them to a greasy spoon down the street. She walked in and seated them at a booth near the back. A rotund old guy stepped out from behind the counter, wiping his hands on his not-exactly-white-anymore apron. He grabbed a coffee pot on the way over.

“Rox! It’s been a while. I hear your concert was good last night. The usual?” He asked as he filled the two cups on the table. Roxanne nodded.

“It went really well, Jack. The crowd was a sell-out and no one even knew who we were. There’s been 3600 downloads of the bootleg in the first six hours it’s been online. And that’s without major news coverage yet,” she replied.

“And you, son? You need a menu?” Jack turned to Peter. Peter looked at Roxanne for guidance.

“Everything here is good, Pete.” She was completely useless to his decision-making process. 

“Surprise me,” Peter suggested. Jack raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“You got it kid.” He chuckled to himself as he walked away.

“Was that a bad idea?” Peter asked. Roxanne shook her head.

“Nah, Jack just likes people to think he’s an evil mastermind. So, acquisitions? You must travel a lot,” she pried. Peter picked up his coffee and inhaled the rich aroma. He took a sip, savoured it, took another. Roxanne could tell he was trying to avoid the question. He put the cup down and squared his broad shoulders, like he’d come to an important decision about something.

“Yeah, I’ve been all over. But it’s busy. No time for sightseeing. Mostly.” He was still hedging, but Roxanne figured it was a move in the right direction.

“Or updating your music?” She asked. Peter laughed.

“Or that,” he agreed. “Truth is, my mom made me the tape. She died when I was eight and I never really got a chance to be a kid after that. I was working instead of going to school. It’s the only thing of hers I still have.” It was plausible, Roxanne thought, but she still got the sense she wasn’t getting the whole story from him, that he had secrets. Which was okay. Everyone had them. A young girl approached the table and interrupted to ask for Roxanne’s autograph. Roxanne took the CD the girl was holding and signed it. She made casual friendly conversation with the girl, who looked completely star struck, and posed for a selfie when the girl held out her cellphone, checking the make sure the picture turned out before she let the girl leave. She glanced up at Peter to apologize for the interruption, and was taken by his ridiculous smile. When the girl walked away he shook his head and went back to his coffee wordlessly.

“What?” Roxanne asked, curious if she was really the source of his amusement.

“You really are a rock star. Like, effortlessly so,” he smiled. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel star struck. Not here.”

“I guess Portland isn’t really what people expect when they think rock stars,” Roxanne agreed. Peter looked puzzled for a second, then nodded.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” He agreed too quickly, and again, Roxanne got the impression he was hiding something. Before she could work up her courage to pry, Jack arrived with two plates, heaping with food. He dropped a plate in front of Roxanne that had two of everything related to breakfast that the restaurant served. And he put the same thing in front of Peter.

“Trucker’s breakfast, kids.” Peter looked at his plate, and then across the table at the slight woman digging into her mountain of food. She looked up at him and smiled.

“I burn a few thousand calories every time I’m on stage,” she offered. He blinked and started on his eggs.

XXX

Peter brought the cardboard box onto the ship and put it down in front of the cassette player. He pulled out the handwritten directions Roxanne had given for how to hook up the iPod. Her handwriting was nearly illegible, but he managed to get the cassette converter connected and then started playing with the iPod. The screen lit up with a list of titles. Awesome Mix (Volume 1) was at the top. The bootleg of Starlady and the astronauts was the second title. And finally there was a third title, Roxy’s 80s playlist of doom. Peter was intrigued, but he selected Awesome Mix to make sure it was all there. The familiar strains of the Jackson 5 filled the cockpit and Peter flopped back into his chair, a sigh of contentment escaping him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Groot dancing in his pot and smiled. Every time anyone tried to actually catch Groot dancing, he would stop moving, but Peter’s peripheral vision was good enough that he could catch the blurry outline of the sapling bopping along to the music. 

Groot stopped moving, and Peter knew they weren’t alone in the cockpit any longer. He closed his eyes, hoping to deceive whomever it was into thinking he was taking a nap.

“You’ve replaced your precious tape then?” Gamora asked, sitting down in the co-pilot’s seat. Peter nodded without opening his eyes. “So we’ll be leaving then? I am finished with Terra and the closed-mindedness of the people here. I feel like a prisoner on this ship.”

“I told you already, no one would notice your skin.” Peter’s eyes remained closed, but his shoulders tensed. Gamora noted it, but pressed on.

“It’s not like hair colour, Peter. And just because you universally like women, regardless of their species, does not mean that all Terran men are like you. We should move on.” She was adamant. Peter sighed.

“I haven’t been home for more than a few days in 26 years, Gamora. If I don’t remember my own home, how good do you expect I’ll be at guarding the entire galaxy?” He asked.

“I don’t remember my home at all.” Gamora’s tone was pinched. “Rocket doesn’t remember where he came from. Drax no longer has a home. And Groot is in a pot. Why do your needs supersede ours? It’s not like any of us can go explore Terra while you catch up with your people.”

Peter sighed again. She was right, of course. But he felt like he’d left things unfinished with Roxanne, and he wanted to bump into her at her shop again. Or something. He knew part of it was lust. Part of it was that he was totally blown away that he’d met a real rock star. But there was something else about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His contemplation was interrupted by Rocket barreling into the cockpit, panting. He was holding a tablet that was projecting a holographic image of the moon.

“Did you know that Terra’s moon has loot?” He was so excited that his tail wouldn’t stop quivering. “There’s an abandoned city there. The Kree built it. That means credits, Peter!” 

Peter sat up and flicked his hand at the projection of the moon. It got larger, and spun around to the Sea of Serenity. A cut away opened up beside the projection, highlighting a small crater in the top left corner of it. Another cut away opened up from there, zooming in on the crater. Peter could almost make out the remains of a city, as well as those of a garden. There was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that he should know about the crater, or that he’d heard of it before. 

“Wait, is that Luther?” Peter shot to his feet, and stepped closer to the projection. Rocket nodded.

“Yeah, Crater Luther in the Sea of Serenity, why?”

“That’s the Blue Area. I thought it was a myth,” Peter breathed.

“What the fuck is the Blue Area? It doesn’t look blue to me,” Rocket snorted.

“Yondu told me the story when I was a kid. Around a million years ago, the Skrulls decided to test the Kree and Cotati. They brought them here and gave them a year to create something of worth. The Kree built a city, but the Cotati built a garden ecosystem that made the city viable. When the Skrulls returned, they deemed the Cotati the winners. The Kree were furious, and slaughtered the Skrulls and the Cotati. They stole the Skrull ship and returned to Hala, and then reverse engineered the Skrull technology to become the warrior race they are now,” Peter explained. “If that’s the Blue Area, there is definitely going to be some loot there, Rocket.”

“Great, let’s get going. It’s just around the corner, and then we can fence whatever we find, and finance a nice vacation to one of those tropical planets that has the white sand beaches, and the drinks with the little umbrellas. A clothing-optional planet. I don’t like it when I get sand between my clothes and fur.” Rocket watered Groot while he spoke. “But not too warm because I don’t want Groot to overheat.”

“Why would your drink need an umbrella if it is in a tropical place?” Drax climbed into the cockpit.

“It’s a decoration,” Rocket explained.

“That is ridiculous. Only an idiot would think a drink would have use of an umbrella.” Drax strapped himself into the jump seat in the rear of the cockpit. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled his safety belt on. He charted a course to the moon and carefully piloted the Milano out of Terra’s atmosphere with the cloaking on. Once they were clear of the gravitational pull of the planet, he threw the ship into hyperdrive and let the autopilot take over. He got up, hungry and needing to stretch, and on his way past the iPod, decided to try out the playlist Roxanne had put on the player for him. 

He returned from the galley with a snack and sat on the bench by the cassette deck. He picked up the box of sound equipment that Roxanne had sold him and rifled through it to see if there way anything else she hadn’t told him about in it. He found a postcard with a photo of the skyline of Portland at the bottom of the box. He flipped it over and read it.

“ _Pete – You obviously aren’t from around here, so I figured I’d give you a playlist and a picture to remember your visit. While you were busy wrestling the Mongolian Deathworm, a lot happened in the music world. So enjoy this trip through the 1980s, 1990s and the new millennium. Some of my favourite songs are on this playlist, but I also included a few truly terrible songs just because they were such huge commercial successes. I’ll let you try to figure out which is which. I hope if you come through Portland again on ‘acquisitions’, you’ll pop by the shop and further your education. XO – Rox_ ”

Peter took the postcard up to the pilot’s seat and propped it up on the console so he could look at the photo. He propped his feet up on the dashboard and ate his sandwich, listening to the familiar strains of something that must have come out during the 80s. He had a vague recollection of having heard it before Yondu and the other Ravagers had kidnapped him. The female singer was a little raspy, but the tempo of the song was upbeat and Peter knew Groot would be dancing if no one were around to watch him. Drax snorted in contempt.

“I thought all the Terran music was about love and romance. This song is about walking. What is an Egyptian? How do you walk like one? Why would it matter if you walked like an Egyptian or some other species?” He asked. Peter rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a song, Drax. Relax. Enjoy it. Don’t think so much,” he responded. Drax resumed checking the sharpness of his knives. Peter wondered that there was any blade left, Drax spent so much time sharpening them. He got lost in Roxanne’s playlist and went back to eating his sandwich as they cruised toward the moon.


	4. Chapter 4

The remains of the city were in exactly the condition Peter would have expected based on Yondu’s tale. Walls were crumbling; the remains of corpses lay haphazardly where they’d fallen. Rocket touched one and it turned to dust before them. A shiver ran down Peter’s spine. He’d left the iPod on the ship with Gamora. She’d offered to stay behind to keep an eye out for other scavengers and unsavoury types that might come along. Peter wouldn’t say it, but he appreciated the gesture. At the same time, he missed having music while he worked. It was impossible to listen to music, scavenge and listen to Rocket though, so he’d opted to just leave the iPod behind.

“My tail is twitching. There’s no atmosphere here. Why would my tail twitch?” He rambled. “You know why, Star-Lord? Because that’s a prime A loot detector, that’s why!”

“You are more advanced than I’d expected. Can your tail give us directions to the target?” Drax glared at Rocket. Rocket rolled his eyes and kept walking deeper into the city. Peter scanned the buildings around them, but none of them seemed opulent enough to house any kind of loot whatsoever. And the Kree had lived here millions of years ago; there was nothing to really suggest that there would be anything of value left. Rocket disappeared into one of the stone houses, while Drax and Peter continued moving through the city. Somewhere, Peter reasoned, there had to be a house where the leader of the Kree had lived. Rocket rejoined them silently, his paws empty.

Peter saw it, ahead of them. A large edifice, with two round towers at each side. It looked important. He quickened his pace and Drax and Rocket followed. They slipped in the entry in silence. There was an altar at the far side of a large open room and floating above it was an orb of some sort. It glowed with a soft yellow light, almost like it was nothing but light. Rocket scoffed.

“It’s always got to be some goddamn ball. I wonder what painful torture is inside that one?” His fur still had out of control static electricity from helping Peter harness the energy of the Power Stone.

“Maybe it will cut out your tongue,” Drax suggested. Rocket shot him a dirty look. He glanced back at Peter. His eyes were narrowed, staring at the orb. 

“It’s just pure energy. There’s nothing to that thing. How can we take it if we can’t grab it?” Peter wondered aloud.

“You feel like absorbing some more mystical magical crap, Star-Lord?” Rocket taunted. Peter stepped closer to the ball of energy, tilting his head to one side. He narrowed his eyes, and glared at it. Nothing. Just a ball of energy.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t think it’s in the interest of my health to grab it. But there must be some way of harnessing whatever it is.” Peter placed a hand on either side of the altar. A cloud of dust rose up, some of it becoming suspended in the pale glow of the sphere. He looked down to the altar and swept his hand across the angled edge and revealed some sort of runes. “Is this Kree?”  
Drax leaned over as far as he could without actually getting any nearer to the altar. He sighed and took a step closer. “Clear it more.”

Peter leaned down and blew across the inscription, sending up another cloud of dust. The light of the glowing orb grew dimmer with the particulate suspended in it. Drax ran his hand across it lightly.

“Kree is all lines and circles. This is not Kree.”

“Do you recognize it, Drax?” Peter pressed. Drax’s fingers traced the symbols. He sighed and rocked back on his heels.

“I should. But I cannot fathom why,” he admitted. Peter gawked at him. It was the most normal thing he’d ever said. Rocket stepped up to the table, his eyes narrowed.

“It ain’t Skrull. Could it be Cotati?” Rocket’s ears twitched and his gaze snapped up to the energy ball. The particulate from the dust was not dropping out of it, but coalescing into some sort of solid. As it did, the light from the energy became dimmer. He picked up a handful of dust and blew it toward the orb. As the dust got closer, it almost appeared to suck into the light, converging with the other dust to form a solid. He picked up another handful, and another, until the light was all gone, and a large lump of light dust-formed rock floated above the altar. The rock began to vibrate, and Peter pulled Drax and Rocket down just in time. A sudden bright flash of light shot across the room, and the rock fell to the altar with a thud. Peter peered over the edge of the rock surface, but the pale rock was gone, replaced by the biggest gemstone he’d ever seen.

“Is that a diamond?” Rocket reached for it. Drax smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t touch it. You have no idea what it could do.”

“I think it’s finished whatever metamorphosis it was going through, Drax.” Rocket reached for the clear stone. It looked like a diamond. There was a heat coming off it that made Rocket suspicious. He reached into Peter’s pocket and pulled out a metal cylinder. After pulling the top off, he slid it along the table until the stone was at the lip of it, then he flipped it inside with the lid and handed it back to Peter. “You’re bigger. If it explodes.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Should we see if there’s anything else here we can sell?” 

Drax nodded and moved out of the altar room, Rocket and Peter trailing him.

XXX

“Hey Star-Lady. Rumour has it that you’re leaving us for the Astronauts.” The tall redheaded man plunked a coffee in front of Roxanne as he slipped into the backroom. She met his eye and shook her head. He was wearing his sunglasses. It was overcast out. She knew he’d been partying in a glance. His tatty union jack t-shirt suggested he had been using his accent to pick up girls again. She could almost hear him correcting her in her head ‘Union flag, Roxy. It’s only a Union Jack at sea.’

“What? Leave this life of glamour? Jinx, seriously?” Roxanne laughed. “I love that some tabloid idiot who wasn’t even at the concert has decided this is the next big news item. Hasn’t Miley done anything outrageous lately?”

Jinx flopped into a bentwood chair across the desk from Roxanne. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his butt barely balanced on the edge of the chair. The chair was horribly uncomfortable, but she had to hand it to him for at least trying to get comfortable. He slid his sunglasses up his forehead to see better in the dim light.

“What are you doing?” He nodded toward the turntable and laptop on the desk.

“I’ve been inspired by a recent customer,” she shrugged. 

“Was he hot?” Jinx raised an eyebrow. “The muses usually are. Look at the Mona Lisa. Stone cold fox, that one.” Roxanne laughed despite herself.

“He was not unattractive,” she admitted. “But that wasn’t what inspired me. He brought in this mix tape, straight outta the eighties. Weirdly, it was all seventies music. But it made me think about all the great music that is just being converted to mp3 and thrown into an online music store. What is it that we are always complaining about?”

“Groupies aren’t as hot or young as they used to be?” Jinx winked. 

“You’re such a dick. That music has lost some of the depth since we pitched vinyl.” She threw the spill-stopping stick from her coffee at him. “Anyhow, Pete wanted to repair this mix tape, and obviously you can’t once the tape is all stretched to hell. So I ripped the songs off their vinyl albums, and put it on an iPod for him. But now I want to rescue some other awesome music and put the dirt and crud back into the tracks. So I’ve been going through my favourite albums and ripping them to mp3. Not cleaning them up, not making them pretty.”

“To what end?”

“Not sure yet. I’ve sent out some feelers to some of the groups. See if their interested in a compilation. I’ve been asked to do that podcast with that dude. Maybe I could bring in a playlist. Talk about how remastering is ruining music,” Roxanne shrugged. She wasn’t sure why she was so compelled to continue, but it had started with the bonus tracks she’d thrown on Peter’s iPod.

“Wait, did you just say dude wanted to repair a mix tape? What fucking rock has he been living under?” Jinx sat up and blinked, like the thought had been painful.

“He says he travels a lot. I guess maybe he hasn’t kept up,” Roxanne shrugged.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t even have facebook,” Jinx snorted. “Your disturbing aversion to technology is not actually that common, Rox.”

“I’m not having this argument again, Jamie. You know my reasons,” Roxanne warned. She humoured his desire to be called by his stage name most of the time. It made using his real name that much more powerful.

“If your father wanted to find you, he could have. Like, a million times in the last ten years. Irregardless of facebook, twitter, or anything else.” Jinx rolled his eyes.

“Regardless.”

“Regardless what?” His English accent got unusually pronounced when he was confused.

“The word is regardless. Irregardless is not a word,” Roxanne corrected. Jinx rolled his eyes again.

“Sure thing, Shakespeare.” He pulled his sunglasses down and took a deep breath. “So, Star-Lady and the Astronauts. You gonna really release that?”

“No way. It’s for shits and giggles. There’s not a real big market for space music that includes songs with physics equations in it,” Roxanne laughed.

“You could play convocation at MIT.” Jinx was teasing her again. Roxanne shook her head and restrained herself from throwing a cassette tape at him.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere? I’m sure there’s a groupie just waiting for you to be a disgusting pig about her bra size. Somewhere.” Roxanne dismissed him. Jinx stood up and took his sunglasses back off. 

“Roxy, why you gotta be that way?” He asked. “Honestly, it was once!”

“It was while we were married!” Roxanne laughed. “A girl doesn’t forget that kind of thing.”

“And here I thought we were past all that.”

Roxanne stood up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You wouldn’t still be in the band if I wasn’t over it, Jamie. There’s a lot of other mediocre drummers out there looking for a gig. Now hustle your ass out of here before your groupies find out you’re here. Unless you’re planning on sticking around and signing autographs.” She shooed him toward the exit to the floor of the store. He playfully swatted her ass.

“Alright, lovey. I’ll see you later.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. As he turned to leave, he bumped into an equally tall guy who was just standing there. Gawking. “What’s wrong, mate? Never seen a rock star before?”

“Hey! Pete! I wasn’t expecting you back so soon!” Roxanne smiled brightly as Jinx sidestepped Peter. Peter shook his head a little and focused on Roxanne instead of Jinx.

“I was hoping to thank you again for the tape,” he started, and glanced back at Jinx. “I didn’t realize that you –“

“Oh god, no mate! That ship has sailed, she’s all yours.” Jinx interrupted and clapped Peter on the shoulder. He turned and winked at Roxanne. “And that is my cue to leave.”

Roxanne let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. And then chastised herself in her head. Despite scoffing at Jinx, she was curious about Peter. She felt a flush creep up her cheeks and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Your trip must have gone well.” It was awkward. She felt awkward, and her words were awkward.

“Uh yeah. Well, no. I don’t know. I wanted to let you know I really enjoyed the other mix you threw on the iPod for me,” he started. Roxanne grinned.

“I have another one started if you feel your musical education is ready to progress?” She winked. Peter smiled. 

“I was thinking maybe I could take you out. To a movie? I found a theatre showing Goonies. Do you remember that movie?” He asked.

“Pete, we’re in Oregon. Everyone here remembers that movie,” she laughed and immediately felt bad as his smile fell. “I haven’t seen it in years. I’d love to go.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You should cover that song at your next concert,” Peter teased as they left the theatre. He was carrying the remains of a huge fountain drink, and half a bag of popcorn. Roxanne burst out laughing.

“I don’t exactly have the right voice for singing Cyndi Lauper songs,” she admitted. Peter smiled.

“I think you could do it,” he narrowed his eyes, as though he was issuing a challenge. Roxanne shook her head.

“Nah. The eighties were over a long time ago. And there’s a lot of people nostalgic about old music, but not enough that remaking anything would sell. Pixie Stix is riding a good wave right now, but I don’t know that I’ve put enough away for retirement yet. And I want to be secure before I branch out into less commercial interests,” Roxanne explained. And then cringed. “I just sucked all the mystery and coolness out of music, didn’t I?”

“You might have,” Peter laughed. “You mean it’s not all about the art?”

“Oh god, you think I’m a sell-out!” Roxanne cringed. Peter laughed and slipped his arm around her shoulder, like they’d been friends or lovers for years. He tipped his head close until their temples touched.

“Maybe a bit of a sell-out. I mean, in Outer Mongolia, when I wasn’t fighting the death worm, I listened to a lot of really amazing artists. And they were artists, Roxanne. With a capital A. I,” he paused, and Roxanne had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, “I’m just feeling really like you’re stealing my innocence here. World’s most famous lead singer, talking about making bank instead of making art.” Roxanne couldn’t help but snort. She elbowed him in the ribs and ducked out from under his arm.

“Well, since I’ve ruined your perception of the music industry, I can probably find my own way home. You know, back to the other sell-outs,” she laughed. At the same time, there was part of her that was just a little hurt by his words. Peter sobered, and Roxanne thought maybe he caught the slight tension in her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, and reached out for her. She dodged out of his grip and cocked an eyebrow. “Roxanne, please. I’m sorry. You know I know nothing about modern music. My entire musical knowledge ends in 1989. But I do know what it’s like to have to think about the bottom line. My line of work can be very sporadic. You need to plan ahead. I understand wanting a nest egg.”

“1989?”

“What? I just poured out my heart, and apologized, not once, but twice, and what you took from that was 1989?” Peter feigned offense. Roxanne slid her arm around his waist, mimicking his earlier move. His own arm slipped back around her, and his posture relaxed. 

“No, baby, it’s alright. I mean, you can be musically oblivious and still tell me how to run my career.” She nudged his forehead with her own, and winked. He pulled away, and glared at her for just a beat. Then he smiled and put his arm back around her shoulder.

“I always figured rock stars would be different. Somehow,” he commented, as they turned the corner back to the shop. Roxanne pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.

“Come in. I’ve got to grab something before I head home,” Roxanne tilted her head to the darkened shop in invitation. Peter stepped inside and waited as she pulled the door shut and locked it. He followed her back to the stock room in the dark. She clicked on a lamp when they got into her office. Roxanne sat down at her desk and started rummaging through a pile of paper, coming up with a sketchpad and her laptop. She slipped both into the messenger bag she wore over her hip and stood up. Peter was flipping through the pile of records at the edge of the desk.

“Man, I’d forgotten about some of these,” he breathed. Roxanne felt herself smiling. 

“You’ve inspired me, Pete. I’ve been ripping albums to mp3 like crazy the last couple weeks. Next time you’re here, you should bring your iPod and I’ll drop a couple more playlists on it for you,” she offered. “Maybe give you an education past 1989.”

“I have it with me right now.” Peter pulled the iPod out of the inner pocket of his jacket. Roxanne sighed.

“Of course you do,” she sighed. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Sure?” Peter wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. Roxanne pulled a helmet out from under the desk and tossed it to him before turning on her heel and walking toward the back door. She opened the door and stepped out into the warm evening, the low light of dusk creeping in the darkened office. Peter was still standing where she’d left him, holding the motorcycle helmet.

“You coming?” She asked. Peter looked up at her, and back down at the motorcycle helmet and blinked. He nodded and started toward the door.

“Yeah, sorry.” He stepped past her into the alley and let out a low whistle, “I like.” Roxanne smiled in response.

“Most boys do. It’s just an old Harley,” she shrugged.

“Says the rock star.” He pulled on his helmet and swung his leg over the bike. “Do I get to drive?”

“Do you know where we’re going?” Roxanne climbed on in front of him and used her butt to push him back. She pulled her helmet over her head and kick-started the motor. “Hold on, Pete!”  
She pulled away from the back of the store and out to the street. She should feel Peter sitting up straight behind her, holding her waist tentatively, and jumped the bike forward just a touch. He bucked forward into her back, his arms tightening around her waist. Better, she thought, as she pulled onto the road and headed toward her place. By the time they reached her house, Peter had relaxed completely, body tucked tight against hers. The gate at the head of the driveway swung open and she steered onto the property, parking in front of the stairs leading to the front door. Peter swung himself off the motorcycle first and pulled the helmet off. He turned away from the house and looked out across Portland, lit up against the night sky.

“How can you be worried about a retirement fund with a property like this?” He breathed.

“By the time I retire, I’ll probably need to acquire property on another planet in order the live in the manner to which I’ve become accustomed,” Roxanne teased. Peter stopped, still. He turned and faced her.

“Another planet?”

“Sure. We’ll probably need to colonize somewhere because we’ve killed this one,” Roxanne winked, and Peter realized she was teasing. Probably. He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You said that Star-Lady and the Astronauts was made up of musicians with science backgrounds. What’s yours?” He asked. Roxanne raised an eyebrow.

“Astrophysics. Why? What’s yours?” She challenged him. He dropped his arms and laughed.

“I’m a student of the universe. You could say I know my way around the night sky. No paper to back up my knowledge though,” Peter admitted.

“So you’re an armchair astronomer?” Roxanne asked. “Follow me.” She led him up a staircase at the side of the house, above the driveway and streetlights. They rounded a corner and were on the flat roof of the house, above the light pollution of the city. “This is why I bought this place.” She gestured toward a large telescope set up on the far side of the roof. Peter smiled, but the gesture was lost in the dark of the roof. Roxanne took his hand and led him over to the telescope. Dropping his hand, she fiddled with it for a moment and stepped back. Peter stepped up to the eyepiece and leaned down. A smile spread across his face, barely noticeable in the dark.

“Triangulum. I’ve been there before. It’s beautiful,” he murmured. Roxanne tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.

“You’ve been there before?” There was a challenge in her voice. Peter took a quiet breath and turned to face her.

“I meant I’ve seen it before,” he corrected, and in the shadow could see the tension drop from Roxanne’s shoulders.

“Because you know how crazy that sounded,” Roxanne started. Peter laughed and held up a hand, stepping away from the telescope. He was backlit against the dull light coming from the city below.  
“I told you. I’m a student of this. I get lost in it,” he excused. It sounded weak to him, but he knew there was more than just Terra out there.

“Show me somewhere else you’ve been lost then, Pete.” Roxanne stepped back to the telescope, standing just a little too close. Peter waited until his eyes adjusted, and watched her push her hair off her face. She stared at him expectantly, waiting as he took in everything from the way the faint light from below them highlighted her cheekbones to the gentle curve of her hips. Roxanne let out a sigh and Peter shook his head and offered an apologetic smile. He turned back to the telescope, and used the finderscope to track something in a part of the sky Roxanne didn’t normally look at. He focused the eyepiece and gestured to it.

“Most people don’t go looking for anything exciting over here, I’ve found. But there’s treasure to be had, if you look hard enough,” he explained. “You’re looking at a planetary nebula. It will probably be gone soon. Well, soon is relative. Maybe a thousand years. But it will wind up a lonely white dwarf.”

“I’m not seeing it,” Roxanne complained. Peter leaned over her, and when she moved her head away from the eyepiece, he refocused on the nebula. Roxanne could feel his warm breath on her neck as she placed her eye to the eyepiece again. She adjusted the focus slightly, and the nebula came into view for her. She let out a low breath. “It’s stunning. I’ve never seen this one before.”

“I’ve been watching it since I was a kid. My mom used to say my dad was an angel, and he’d come from the stars. I always wanted that to be where he was from,” Peter admitted. Roxanne straightened up, and in the process, backed into Peter’s chest. It was solid. Warm. She felt a butterfly flutter from her stomach to her throat and was surprised. Peter was hot; she wasn’t going to deny it. But she hadn’t really thought him her type. Until he started talking about getting lost in the stars.

“You didn’t know your dad?” She didn’t know what else to say.

“No. Mom always said he would come and get me after she died, but that never happened,” he shrugged. “I’m not even sure he knew about me.”

“Jesus, Pete,” Roxanne breathed. Peter tensed behind her.

“Sorry, that was too much to share,” he apologized. “I should really probably go, Roxanne. It’s late, and –“

“No, come in. Have a drink.” Roxanne threw the cover over the telescope and led him across the roof to another flight of stairs, leading down one story to a sundeck. They crossed the deck and Roxanne held the door open for him. “I’ll sync your iPod while you have a beer. Upload those other playlists.” She led him to the kitchen and pulled the messenger bag over her head, dropping it on the island counter. The fridge was one of those huge stainless steel ones, and Peter was impressed by the amount of real food stashed amongst an amazing craft beer collection. Roxanne pulled two bottles out and twisted the cap off one and handed it to Peter. He waited until she had hers open, and held the long neck toward her.

“To new friends,” he offered.

“To Goonies, 1989, and lonely white dwarves. You are an interesting man, Peter Quill.” Roxanne clinked her bottle against his before taking a long pull. She reached up into her hair and pulled the elastic that was holding the ponytail out, running her fingers through her hair to give it some body. Peter leaned against the counter and took in Roxanne’s blonde and pink tangles as she continued to tousle her hair. She pulled off her leather jacket and dropped it on a chair by the kitchen table. Roxanne stretched, yawns and took the laptop from her messenger bag and set it up, connecting a cable on the side. She clicked through a sequence on the keyboard and held her hand out to Peter. “iPod, please.”

Peter dug into the inner pocket of his jacket and fished out the player, handing it over as he took another deep drink from his beer. 

“When I put your cassette onto this, I added an eighties playlist. I’m going to add another one, and another seventies one, and a nineties one. That should give you lots to listen to while you travel. And then you can tell me what you liked best when you’re next in town,” she offered as she reached into the fridge for another beer. She tilted the bottle at Peter and pulled a second one out when he nodded. “You’ll notice a difference in the richness of the sound in the nineties music. Once CDs took over, that depth that you get from vinyl is gone.”

“It makes sense that you would know about music, Roxanne,” Peter started. “But you’re also an artist, and an accountant, and a scientist. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Yodel.” It was said as though it was something she’d actually spent time thinking on. Peter laughed.

“Yodel?” 

“Little old lady who?” Roxanne tried to demonstrate as she twisted the top of her beer. She dropped the cap on the counter and pushed herself up so she was sitting on the granite. Peter placed his beer on the counter by her hip and smirked.

“Anything else?” He pressed.

“I’m a slob. I have to have a housekeeper. I was a terrible wife. I’m not really into kids. Or animals. I mean, fluffy kitty photos have their place but I don’t really like the real thing. I hate sports. I only run and do Pilates because my career is mostly about image, but I’d rather be eating a steak, drinking a beer and laying on the couch. Airplanes terrify me; I need to be sedated to get around for tours. My hair is naturally this bland, boring dishwater blonde. Don’t ever ask me to cook. I can burn water. My –“

“I get it. You aren’t perfect,” Peter interrupted. “I don’t care, actually.” 

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Then why would you ask?”  
“So you’re also incredibly literal? I know a guy like that. Can’t make a joke with him at all.” Peter stepped forward until his belt rubbed against Roxanne’s knees. She glanced down and then met his eyes, smirking.

“I just don’t understand why it matters if I’m perfect or not,” she started. “There’s one of two things that are happening here, Pete. You’d either never heard of me and are interested, but starstruck. Or you knew exactly who I was when you walked into my shop, and have been playing me the whole time. I’m leaning toward the first option, despite the player vibe I get off you.”

Peter didn’t move, but leaned back from the waist, a look of mock-outrage on his face. “I am offended. I am hurt. I have more than a player vibe, I am a player!” His protestation made Roxanne want to giggle. She smothered her laughter with the back of her hand. Peter leaned forward, hands on the counter on either side of her thighs. He bent at the waist until his face was just a fraction of inch away from hers. Roxanne’s breath caught and the urge to giggle vanished as she caught Peter’s scent, a spicy mix of motor oil, soap and some unidentifiable spice. Without realizing what she was doing, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him toward her, lacing her arms behind his neck.

“So you’re saying you’re starstruck?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Peter nodded, sliding his hands to her thighs, his long fingers digging into the flesh at her hips. He tilted his head slightly and leaned just a little closer until their lips met. Roxanne felt the chemistry hit her like a punch to the kidney. His lips were soft, but aggressive, matching the force of his hands as he ran his strong fingers along her spine and dragged her nearer to him. Roxanne felt her bum lift from the counter, and tightened her arms around Peter’s neck, allowing him to push her against the fridge, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He dragged his mouth away from hers and trailed his lips down her neck to her shoulders before searching out her lips again. His fingers dug into her hips as he held her between him and the fridge. Roxanne’s breath caught again, and she had to hold back a sigh of disappointment when his lips broke away from hers.

“I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but making out with a rock star is not one of them,” Peter admitted. Roxanne’s lips spread in a smile beneath his.

“I’d say I’ve never kissed a guy in your line of work before, but I’m still a little grey on what it is you do,” she teased, and nipping his bottom lip between her teeth. His response was so forceful that her head bumped against the fridge, and she flinched. Peter mumbled an apology between kisses and pulled them away from the wall, carrying her to the living room and falling on top of her onto the couch. Roxanne felt the air rush from her lungs when he didn’t catch all his weight, but recovered quickly, reaching for his waistband, and tugging at his t-shirt. He stilled her hands and pulled the shirt over his head in a single move. Roxanne held him at an arms length, admiring the chiseled musculature of his chest and abdomen.

“Dang, Pete,” she breathed. She ran her hand across his abs lightly, stopping at a small scar with a quirked eyebrow.

“Long story,” he smiled, and her fingers found another knot of scar tissue. “Oh, that one’s from a girl.”

Roxanne laughed. “Maybe the player thing was more accurate than you led me to believe.”

“Oh, it’s completely accurate. I’m a total bastard. Cold-hearted, thoughtless,” he admitted. “You should never have let me into your house. I’ll probably break your heart.”

“That implies I have a heart to be broken, Pete. Maybe I’m the girl who’ll turn the tables on you,” Roxanne teased. Peter laughed and dipped his head to kiss her again, sliding his hand under her shirt. With a sudden groan of disappointment, he pulled back.

“Maybe you are. Because this feels wrong,” he complained. Roxanne shifted under him slightly, and reassured herself that he was at least turned on by her. She looked up at him through her lashes with a pout, and he nearly capitulated and dropped back into her arms. But he didn’t, keeping his arms stiff, holding himself above her while he wrestled with whatever it was he was struggling with.

“What’s wrong about it?” She trailed a fingernail along his collarbone and was pleased to see the gooseflesh rise across his shoulders. He squirmed and reached for his t-shirt.

“I’ve gotta go.” He pulled his shirt over his head and stood up in one move. Roxanne sat up, completely nonplussed. She followed him to the kitchen, where he stood by the computer, waiting for her to disconnect the iPod. She cocked an eyebrow, but finished the sync and pulled the connection between the devices. She held the iPod in her hand and narrowed her eyes.

“I can still feel where your fingers dug into my ass to lift me from the counter, Pete. And you just had your hand on my boob. So what gives?” She demanded. Peter sighed and reached for the iPod. Roxanne shook her head and held it out of his reach.

“I have apparently developed a conscience. Or something. I don’t know,” he groaned. “I want to stay, Roxanne. I want to do things with you, right now, that are illegal in twelve star systems. But there’s something telling me I can’t.”

“Well, it’s not me,” she laughed sharply, and thrust the iPod toward him. She turned away and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet beside the fridge, along with a tumbler. She poured a generous glass and tossed it back. Peter groaned.

“Roxanne, please. Don’t be like this. I want –“

“No you don’t, or we’d still be on the couch,” she interrupted.

“There’s things you don’t know about me, and –“

“Like what? I hate sounding so arrogant, but dude, I am a rock star. I’ve pretty much heard everything at this point. What could possibly be such an awful secret that you’re unwilling to spend the night? Are you sick? Contagious? Maybe there’s a tiny head sprouting out of the centre of your back?” Roxanne interrupted a second time.

“It’s nothing like that. I’m totally healthy. And not mutating in any way.” He spoke quickly, seeing that Roxanne was going to interrupt again.

“Then what exactly is the issue? You’re interested, you’re attractive, you’re a decent kisser, which suggests you’ll be good in bed. Are you married? Have six kids at home wondering why Daddy keeps sleeping around?” Roxanne could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She’d never been rejected like Peter was doing, and she was upset that he wasn’t being honest.

“No! Oh my god, no! It’s –“

“Pete, it’s just sex, for god’s sake,” Roxanne interrupted again.

“I know that!” He exclaimed, his voice cracking a little.

“Then what the fuck, dude?” Roxanne asked, shaking her head.

“I’ve never had sex with a Terran before!” He blurted, and immediately cringed and slapped a hand to his forehead with a deep sigh.

“What the fuck is a Terran?” Roxanne’s voice went cold.

“Someone from Terra. Earth is called Terra,” Peter explained.

“No, it’s not,” Roxanne argued.

“It is.”

“By whom?” She demanded.

“The Kree. Zatoans. Xandarians. The Badoon, The –“

“You’re making shit up,” Roxanne interrupted.

“Roxanne, when I was a kid, I was kidnapped by space pirates and –“

“Seriously, Pete? If the thought of being with me is so fucking distasteful, just leave.” Roxanne turned away from him and refilled her glass, mumbling under her breath. Peter grabbed her and turned her back to him, pulling her against his chest and kissing her. He bit her lip and growled in the back of his throat as his hand played rough across her chest. Roxanne responded, tugging his head down to hers. He pulled back, breathless.

“It’s not distasteful, Roxanne,” he breathed. “I’ve spent the last 25 years living on spaceships and traveling the galaxy. I can’t even tell you how many women I’ve been with. Actually, it would probably have been smarter just to give you that number to kill the mood. The point is, I left earth when I was just a kid. And I’ve never been with another Terran. It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Show me your spaceship,” Roxanne demanded. Peter blanched.

“My team is there,” he protested. Roxanne arched an eyebrow and set her mouth.

“Let me put it this way, Pete,” Roxanne bargained. “Prove that this tale of spaceships and interstellar travel is true, and I’ll make sure your first time with an Earth girl is so good you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

Peter smirked and slipped the iPod into his pocket and pointed toward the front door. “We’ll need to take your bike again.”


	6. Chapter 6

Roxanne shivered in anticipation as she zipped up her bike jacket. Peter had given her some vague direction on where the supposed spaceship was and she was equal parts skeptical and excited. But the hope that came with the excitement was overwhelming her skepticism. It made sense. His weird accent, his general naivety about pop culture. The crack about not knowing anything about music after 1989, and the fact that he still had a Walkman. He was either a serial killer with a great imagination or he was telling the truth. She had a twinge of nervousness at the thought. Maybe she shouldn’t be going anywhere with him. Maybe he was a serial killer. But he could have killed her at any point in the past few hours, so maybe he was safe. And maybe he wasn’t.

“Fuck!” She growled and threw her bike helmet onto the driveway in frustration. Peter jumped and backed away.

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer? Are you luring me away from my house to chop me into a hundred little pieces and turn me into stew?” Roxanne put the Harley between her and Peter, just to be safe. He put his hands up and shook his head.

“Not what I had in mind, no. You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you. I didn’t believe it myself when I was beamed onto Yondu’s –“

“Beamed? Like Star Trek?” Roxanne interrupted.

“Not really, no,” Peter paused, thoughtfully. “I guess more like Star Wars? Like a tractor beam.” Roxanne quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, and began to circle back to the doors of the house. Peter’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t move, recognizing that she had become fearful for some reason. 

“I think I’m going to pass,” Roxanne started as she headed up the stairs. Peter tapped the side of his head and said something so quietly she couldn’t hear it. The wind in the driveway picked up, swirling leaves around in a mini-tornado. Peter’s jacket blew open. A spotlight shone down on him from up in the sky, and Roxanne ran back down the stairs into the driveway, shielding her eyes and staring into the sky. 

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed. There was a spaceship hovering in the air above her driveway. The nose was pointed down, but it looked kind of like an airplane, not a spaceship. Roxanne took a few steps toward Peter. “This is your spaceship?”

“This is the Milano. Would you like to come aboard?” He held out a hand. Without looking away from the ship, Roxanne held out her free hand, and let Peter take it.

“You could still be an ax murderer, you know,” she complained. Peter laughed.

“This would be one helluva complex plan, if that were the case.” He nodded up at the ship, and a ramp descended from the back of it. He led her around to it, and walked up with her, hitting a button on the inner wall when they were inside that closed the back of the ship back up. Standing in what Roxanne assumed was the cargo bay was a raccoon in overalls, pointing some kind of weapon at her. She shrieked and stepped behind Peter.

“The fuck is with the raccoon?” She asked. Peter waved Rocket away and turned to face Roxanne.

“Rocket is okay. But he doesn’t know what a raccoon is, so maybe if you could just call him Rocket?”

“Alien. Sure. Different than I am. I can handle different. Any other crew members that are not humanoid?” Roxanne’s voice wavered.

“Well, Groot is still in sapling form, so he shouldn’t startle you too much. Gamora and Drax don’t look that much different than a human, when everything is said and done,” Peter was thinking out loud.

“Sapling?”

“He’s some sort of giant tree. Or,” Peter paused and pursed his lips, “he was. Now he’s a potted plant.”

“Right. This is not at all what I expected.” Roxanne realized she was still clinging to the back of Peter’s jacket and let go, smoothing the soft leather unnecessarily. Peter glanced over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. He reached back and took her hand, and brought her out to show her it was safe. He tilted his head toward a small tree sitting beside the cassette deck against the far wall.

“That’s Groot.” He stepped over to the stereo and plugged the iPod into it, and set one of the new playlists playing. Groot turned and looked down at the iPod, as though he was reading the display.

“That tree just moved,” Roxanne commented, stepping toward the pot and narrowing her eyes. She reached out and stroked one of the leaves on one of the stems, and could have sworn the tree purred and leaned into her.

“Because the tree is a person, you moron,” Rocket snapped and shoved her out of the way. She lost her balance and toppled into Peter, who caught her effortlessly. He slid his arm around her and watched as Groot squeaked at Rocket. It seemed like just a bunch of squawks and shrill tweets, but Rocket’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, baring his teeth. He turned and faced Roxanne.

“I am sorry that I pushed you,” he started. Groot made some more noise and Rocket sighed and rolled his eyes. “And called you a moron.”

“Well, aren’t you the nicest little tree that ever lived?” Roxanne smiled at Groot, whose tiny head turned toward her and smiled back. It was weird, but she could accept it. She rubbed under his barky chin and watched his leaves ruffle again. Rocket let out a huff of disgust and turned away, muttering.

“Why’d you bring her here, Quill?” Rocket demanded. Peter bristled and turned away from watching Roxanne with Groot.

“I felt like it,” he shrugged. Rocket’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Peter. He glanced over at Roxanne again, who was bopping her head along to the music as she talked at Groot and played with his leaves, and then looked back at Peter, who was staring at Roxanne with something that could only be described as hunger.

“You told Gamora you’d been with a Terran before!” Rocket exclaimed. “But you haven’t!”

“Shut up, Rocket,” Peter warned.

“Why would you lie about that? Humans is no different than any other alien out there. Kree, A’askvariian –“

“She is nothing like an A’askvariian!” Peter interrupted.

“What’s an A’askvariian?” Roxanne looked up, curiosity getting the better of her. The entire argument was somewhat amusing, but the vehemence with which Peter denied her similarity to another alien race was curious enough that she wanted to know.

“Green, tentacles, sharp pointy needle teeth. Not terribly attractive,” Peter explained.

“Don’t forget the gills, Quill,” Rocket added. Roxanne looked down at herself. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket. Seemed pretty normal. Then she looked at the raccoon, and the potted plant that the raccoon insisted was a person. And then she thought about it. To Peter, she would be more appealing for no other reason than that like attracts like. But to Rocket and Groot, she probably was pretty weird looking, with her pale complexion and abundance of weirdly coloured hair. As thought to emphasize the point, a tall, slim woman descended into the cargo area.

“Can you close the cargo bay doors so we can get out of here before someone notices us?” She bent down to glare at Rocket and Roxanne tried not to stare. But it was difficult. She was completely green. She was gorgeous. But she was completely green. She looked at Roxanne, rolled her eyes and looked over at Peter.

“Roxanne, this is Gamora. She’s one of the most deadly assassins in the galaxy,” Peter introduced quickly, before Gamora had a chance to say anything. Roxanne’s breath caught and she couldn’t help but stare at Gamora. 

“Nice to meet you?” Roxanne tried. Gamora rolled her eyes again and then forced a smile.

“As Quill has assured me that his pursuit of you has nothing to do with a juvenile attempt to sleep with one of each race in the galaxy, I would suggest that if you are planning on staying on the Milano, you avoid his bunk.” Gamora looked completely forthright and Roxanne had to laugh. She glanced over at Peter, who was actually blushing, and then shot a quick look to Rocket, who had started to giggle.

“On that point Gamora, guess who hasn’t –“

Peter interrupted by leveling his phaser at Rocket. “You really want to go there?”

“What is going on down here? Gamora, you said you were going to make sure we could leave. Why is there arguing and no movement? This planet makes me nervous.” Roxanne shook her head a little, as a hulking shirtless guy came down the ladder behind Gamora. His body was covered in red, raised marks that looked like tattoos, but that Roxanne thought might be part of his natural physiology. She felt a little light-headed. That was four different aliens she’d met in the past ten minutes.

“This is Drax,” Peter announced.

“This woman is what has been preventing us from leaving Terra? I expected something more impressive.” Drax gave Roxanne a critical once-over. Roxanne felt her temper quirk and shot Drax a look.

“Look, buddy, I may not seem that fucking impressive to you, with your red and green skin and ridiculously enormous muscles, but I’m kind of a big fucking deal. The fact that I’m the lead singer in the biggest band on the planet notwithstanding, I have a Masters in Astrophysics, which means my brain is fucking huge. I’m one of only a few hundred people that could actually be exposed to a bunch of aliens and not freak out and go on reality TV claiming all kinds of violation. Instead I’m curious. About you and your stupid worlds. So maybe you should all stop being so goddamn rude to me, and just accept that yes, Pete has never slept with a Terran before and I’m probably the best goddamn woman for the job!” Roxanne stepped toward Drax as she ranted, and poked him in the centre of the chest for emphasis as she spoke. He flinched and backed away from her. He starred in stunned silence for a few seconds before speaking.

“How does your head not leak?” He asked.

“What?” Roxanne’s face was a mask of confusion.

“If your brain is huge, how does it remain constrained within your tiny skull?” He clarified. Roxanne blinked.

“His people don’t understand exaggeration, or metaphor. They’re completely literal,” Peter explained. Roxanne turned to face Peter, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“So when I said I was in the biggest band in the world, did he think I meant there are more people in Pixie Stix than any other band?”  
“Quite possibly,” Peter nodded. Roxanne leaned close to him, so her lips were grazing his ear.

“This is not really conducive to you finally getting with a Terran,” Roxanne whispered. Peter let out a soft snort of what Roxanne assumed was laughter.

“No, not really,” he agreed. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” He bit his lip and looked down at the floor. Roxanne sighed and realized they were just not going to happen. Not on a crowded spaceship. Maybe not ever. She wasn’t surprised to find she was okay with that conclusion. Peter had barely popped into her life, and now it appeared he was going to pop back out just as quickly.

“I think so. I’ll just go,” Roxanne excused herself, and stepped toward the cargo ramp. “Maybe next time you are around these parts, you could stop by and say hi.” It took most of her restraint, but she turned and walked down the cargo ramp without looking back. She paused briefly as she stepped back onto the solid ground of her driveway, but blinked, shook her head and kept walking toward the house, bending over to pick up her helmet when she passed it. She heard the mechanical grinding of the ramp pulling back up to close the hull breach and finally turned to watch the ship ascend up into the atmosphere. It shimmered out of sight, probably cloaking itself, but Roxanne could just make out the outline of it as it climbed into the night sky. She quickly dashed up the stairs to the rooftop, planning on trying to track it on its way out of the night sky, and stopped dead as she hit the top stair. 

Peter was standing on the roof. She dropped the motorcycle helmet in surprise.

“But?” She pointed at the blurry, cloaked outline of the Milano. Peter shrugged and took a few steps toward her, closing the gap between them.

“Gamora said to tell you that I truly am a whore, and a terrible ambassador for Terra.” His voice was low, and there was a self-deprecating chuckle at the end of the sentence that made Roxanne shake her head.

“I’m in a business where whores are ambassadors, Pete.” Roxanne pressed her hand to his cheek, enjoying the feel of the scraggly growth that wasn’t quite a beard.

“I never liked being called Pete until you did it,” he admitted, taking a final step closer, and sliding his hand along her waist. Roxanne flushed. “I’m not as smart as you are, Roxanne. I’m probably horribly stupid compared to you, actually. I’m a thief by trade, and I have no formal education and –“

“Has that ever mattered to anyone before?” Roxanne asked.

“No. But the galaxy out there, it’s different than Earth is. Merit is measured differently, and what you’ve done is more important than where you’re from or what certificates you hold,” he explained.

“Sounds like I’d rather be a citizen of the galaxy then,” Roxanne shrugged, and looked him in the eyes. “Peter Quill, you are a spaceman. Whether or not you have a degree from a fancy university or not, what you do, every day, is what men and women here on Earth train their entire lives to do. They take advanced degrees, they are in peak physical condition, they are the smartest of the smart. Physics doesn’t work differently just because you are off-planet, Pete. The Milano is yours?”

“Yes?”

“And you’re the primary pilot?”

“Yes?”

“And you know how to enter and exit a variety of atmospheres?”

“Yes?”

“And you can navigate the stars?”

“Well, I have a nav system, but yes.”

“And you’ve walked in zero atmosphere, zero gravity, and lived?”

“Yes?”

“Can you repair the Milano if needed?”

“Yes?”

“Does it run on gasoline or some super special space fuel?”

“Super special space fuel.” His eyes twinkled as he answered.

“And you can troubleshoot any problems with the ship?”

“I already said that, yes.”

“Then you’re just as smart as me,” Roxanne stated. “So shut up.”

“Okay.” Peter just stared at her for a few minutes. She drew in a breath and looked at him again.

“And another thing, Pete,” she started. He nodded. “Why would you think that I care?”

“I –“

“I don’t,” She interrupted.

“Rox, I didn’t even finish elementary school.”

“So? I’ve never been off the planet before,” she shrugged. “Now, I’m done with the pep-talk. I’d like to get back to where we were before.”

“Before?”

“Before insecure-Pete, the earth-virgin reared his ugly head.” Roxanne wiggled her hips against his, and brought his head down to hers. Peter’s arms tightened around her, and he groaned as her lips parted. She pulled away briefly. “There’s no walls to shove me against, and this rooftop is tar and gravel. Could I convince you to join me inside?”

Peter answered by picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder fireman-style, and carrying her down the stairs to the deck off the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re going to have to tell me where your bedroom is, or I’m just going to take you back to the couch.” Roxanne’s face was against Peter’s back, and the reverberance of his voice rumbled against her cheek.

“Up the stairs, last door on the left,” she replied. He pivoted and headed up the stairs, like she weighed nothing. Roxanne was impressed. She was slim, the music industry dictated that she stay that way, but she was not particularly short. Tall and slim enough to go on tour, she weighed in around 155 pounds. Right now they were between albums and not touring, so she was closer to 165. And Peter was carrying her like she weighed nothing. He nudged the bedroom door open with his knee, carried her over to the bed and dumped her on it. She watched as he dropped his jacket on the floor, and pulled his shirt off, revealing broad shoulders and evidence of a chiseled physique. She liked that he didn’t feel the need to prove it by flexing as he pulled the shirt over his head. It was refreshing. He dropped onto the bed beside her, bouncing lightly.

Roxanne rolled onto her side to face him and found herself lost in the depths of his eyes, trying to figure out if they were green, or blue, or just somewhere in between. There were fine lines at the corner of his eyes. When Roxanne was younger, she’d found the signs of aging repulsive, but now that she had similar flaws, she recognized that they weren’t so much signs of being old, but of gaining wisdom. Coupled with his sweet naivety about some things, the crow’s feet at his temples were a gentle contradiction that reminded her he wasn’t some innocent novice. She rubbed her hand across his cheek, enjoying the rough feel of his stubble against her hand. She leaned forward and placed her lips on his, and closed her eyes.

She wouldn’t lie, she was nervous in a way she hadn’t been in years. Why, she couldn’t quite figure out. But Peter Quill, his spaceship, his Walkman, and his team of friends threw her for a loop. She almost felt as though they were both brand new to whatever it was they were doing, instead of the jaded veterans they truly were.

Peter’s hand came to the back of her head, pulling her closer. His tongue slid across her lower lip, before tangling with her own. She was hit with that weird shortness of breath that accompanied arousal and broke away to catch her breath before pulling him back to her. She rolled onto her back, pulling Peter with her, and instead of nearly crushing her as he had earlier; he caught himself, framing her head with his hands. He hadn’t touched anywhere but her face yet, but his chest pressed against hers and she didn’t feel the same constraint he did. Her hands were everywhere, exploring his biceps, his shoulders, tickling along his ribs, fingers digging in at his abs. Peter groaned and pulled her hands away as they slid below his waist, pinning them above her head.

“Slow down, Rox,” he murmured against her lips.

“You’re not really a virgin, Pete. Stop acting like you are,” she teased, and tugged his lip between her teeth.

“This is worth remembering,” he argued, trailing his lips along her jaw, and down her neck.

“Said like someone who has forgotten more encounters than he remembers,” Roxanne laughed. He stopped kissing her and looked her in the eye. He let go of her hands to run one of his own across her cheek.

“The truth would probably horrify you.” His tone was no longer playful, but Roxanne laughed again anyhow.

“I’m a rock star. Unless your number is well past the hundreds, nothing would horrify me.” She arched an eyebrow in challenge. Peter pursed his lips in thought and narrowed his eyes. She could almost see the calculations happening in his head.

“Probably not in the hundreds,” he agreed, still looking away. Roxanne leaned up and nipped his chin.

“Then what are we waiting for?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down against her. His hand moved from her cheek to her waist, and he fumbled with the bottom of her t-shirt for a moment before managing to slide his hand under it. His hand was cool against the warm flesh of her belly, and he sighed against her mouth. His fingers stretched across her waist and kneaded the flesh below her ribs. Roxanne reached down and guided his hand up to her bra. “It’s okay to touch me, Pete.”

“I would like to ruin this moment by pointing out this is the first time I’ve ever touched a human boob,” he smiled against her mouth. When Roxanne smiled in return, their teeth clacked together, making her giggle.

“You’re not touching a human boob yet, Pete. You’re still just touching my bra,” she hinted. Peter’s hands met behind her back and he struggled to unclasp her bra.

“This always looked so easy in movies,” he complained. Roxanne arched her back and reached behind her to unclasp it for him.

“You are not the first man to complain about that.” His hands followed the line of her bra band around to the front of her chest, and he cupped both her breasts in them, flexing his fingers into the soft flesh. He tugged at her t-shirt with his teeth, making Roxanne laugh again, and she quickly slipped the shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere near where his had landed. She skimmed the bra straps down her arms and shot it across the room as well. Peter dipped his head and kissed right over her heart, between her breasts.

“It is on the left for women too, right?” He asked.

“Yes, until you get below the waist, our anatomy is nearly identical,” Roxanne laughed. Peter dropped a hand to her waist, following the curve of her hip down to her thigh. He dipped his head and flicked his tongue against her nipple.

“This is nothing like mine,” he murmured, gliding his tongue around the areola, dragging his teeth up the taut nipple. “It’s much nicer.”

“Aesthetics, Pete. I happen to think yours are fantastic,” Roxanne breathed as he tormented her, flicking and licking around her one nipple, while rubbing his thumb along the other. She slid her hands into the waist of his pants, and tugged until the top button popped open. Her finger flicked the zipper tab up so when she tugged the fly released. She pulled Peter’s face back up to her mouth, roughly kissing him again, and at the same time, slipped her hand into his underwear, wrapping her fingers around the warm, firm length of his cock. He let out a little purring gasp in her mouth. Roxanne moved her hand down the shaft, impressed with the length. Peter reciprocated, tugging her jeans off without breaking their kiss. He glanced down at Roxanne’s skimpy panties and smiled. They were barely there, a little red scrap of fabric. He pulled at the front of them and was rewarded with the satisfying rip of them snapping at the meager elastics on the sides. He tossed them in the same direction that all their clothes had gone flying, and returned his hand to Roxanne’s hip, spreading his fingers across her abdomen. He pulled free of her grasp, trailing his lips from her mouth to her neck to her chest and further, finally stopping to one side of her belly button. He moved between her legs, pushing his arms under her thighs and kneading her buttocks as he drew another line of kisses down her hip and across her thigh. Roxanne tensed in anticipation.

Peter released a soft laugh across her thigh, dropping a kiss atop her mound. “Whose first time is this again? You have goosebumps.”

“Sometimes being famous is lonely,” Roxanne responded, trying not to think too much. 

“Dry spell?” Peter teased, running his finger across the damp cleft. Roxanne took a sharp breath in.

“You could say.” She resisted the urge to wrap her leg around the back of his head and force him down. She didn’t wait for long. Peter dropped his mouth to the cleft and slipped his tongue into the fold, running it alongside her clit. Her fingers fisted in the bedsheets. He slowly teased her, licking around the hooded nub, letting his hot breath torment her, pulling away to lick or kiss her inner thigh. When he finally touched the tip of his tongue against her clit, she nearly came off the bed. “Jesus Christ, Pete!” She felt him chuckle against her before he laid the tip of his tongue against her clit again and flicked lightly. Roxanne could feel tension building, as he kept at his ministrations, her breathing getting more and more ragged until finally the muscles in her thighs tensed on his shoulder and she cried out, pushing her hips up to his mouth, grinding against his face. She collapsed back to the bed, panting, and Peter broke away, pulling himself back across her body. She pulled him against her, and kissed him, tasting her wetness on his mouth. Without a second thought, Roxanne hooked her leg around his thigh and drew his hips to hers. Peter’s eyes closed and he rocked his arousal against her, looking for entry. She didn’t even think about a condom until after she felt his shaft slide inside her, and even then she wasn’t really thinking about it. She was mostly just feeling. Feeling the pressure of Peter’s cock inside her, thrusting. Feeling the walls of her vagina stretching to accommodate his pleasant girth. Feeling the rhythmic grinding of his hips against hers, sliding back and forth. 

Roxanne felt Peter growing thicker within her, his thrusts becoming rougher. She felt the pressure building inside her, and the release of another orgasm crashed across her. Peter groaned and pumped harder, rocking his hips with her release until he cried out, and with a few more grunting thrusts, filled her with his own orgasm. He collapsed against her, heavy across her chest, panting. Roxanne slid her foot along the back of his thigh and down his calf with a contented sigh. They lay in a tangle of limbs until the cool breeze of the air conditioning prickled against her damp skin. She leaned over and kissed Peter on his stubbly cheek.

“Not bad for a virgin, Pete,” she teased. He smiled and released a satisfied growl, pulling her face back to his own to kiss her again. He stopped and tensed up.

“Oh shit,” he murmured.

“What?” Roxanne arched an eyebrow.

“You’re human.” He said it like he’d never realized if before that moment. Roxanne laughed.

“Yes, we determined that when you said you’ve never been with a human before.”

“I didn’t use protection. You’re a human. We’re a compatible species. You’re childbearing age. I’m a human.” Peter was rambling. “We’re both humans and you! And me! And we’re humans!” He was getting agitated, and sat up, a look of terror on his face. Roxanne laughed and pulled him back to her, rolling on top of him and pinning him down to kiss him.

“I can’t get pregnant, if that’s the concern?” She interrupted each word of her question with a kiss. 

“You can’t?”

“We have drugs that help prevent that kind of thing here,” she explained. “I’ve been on them forever.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. We should have used some other form of protection, honestly. But I got the baby part covered.”

“Why would we need other protection?” Peter looked confused and relieved.

“Against sexually transmitted infections?” Roxanne quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not have diseases in space?”

“Well,” Peter paused, “no. Oh my god, you can still get diseased from having sex here? Do you have diseases? Should we have used –“

“No, Pete, I’m clean. Like I said, it’s been a while.” Roxanne interrupted, her tone wry. “Tell me about this no diseases in space thing.”

“I guess medicine is more advanced,” Peter shrugged. “Not really my area.”

Roxanne smiled and rolled to one side, snuggling up under the crook of his arm. “I’m not normally one for the post-coital snuggle.” She traced her fingers through the sparse hairs on his chest. “But you’re pretty.” Peter wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to his side.

“I hate this part,” he agreed. “But you’re warm. And this bed is comfortable.”


	8. Chapter 8

Roxanne clearly remembered moving back to her own side of the bed at some point in the night, but when she wakened, Peter was spooned up against her, his arm draped across her. His breath was warm on her shoulder. She sighed and extricated herself before padding to the bathroom and starting the shower. She ran it hot, and stepped in, arching her back as the water coursed down her back, soothing her sore muscles. It was time for a new bed, she reflected. She was always waking up with a sore back. She stretched and let the water beat against her skin, eyes closed. She didn’t startle when the shower door opened, and when Peter slipped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her, she leaned back against him.

“You look like you need your back washed,” he offered.

“It is hard to reach, just having two arms, and no tentacles.” Her morning laugh was husky. He kissed her shoulder and reached for the shower poof and body wash, scrubbing her until she nearly disappeared under the foam. He turned her to her back was under the shower stream and smiled wickedly.

“I can wash the rest of me.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me get your back. You probably have space cooties.”

“Big old case of them,” he laughed, and offered his back. She soaped him up as he had her, and then snaked her arm around in front of him, rubbing the poof across his chest, and down his abs. She pressed into the bubbles on his back, slipping against the slick skin. Peter turned and pressed her against the back wall of the shower, dropping his head to kiss her. His hand slid through the bubbles at her hip and pulled her leg up around his waist. His erection pressed against her, and Roxanne tilted her hips, just enough that she didn’t lose her balance, but enough that he knew she was ready. He groaned into her mouth and pushed into her, already wet and ready for him. Their lovemaking was unhurried, the tenuous wet surfaces of the shower making Peter careful. They came together, Peter crushing her against the wall as his body tensed. 

“It would appear you need to be washed again,” he teased, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he released her carefully to regain her footing on the shower floor. Roxanne laughed and picked up the poof from where it had fallen. 

“I’ve been managing my shower on my own for a lot of years, Pete.” She hung the poof back on the shower rack and instead worked shampoo through her long hair. “You’re welcome to stay, but I can get the rest. I somehow doubt we’ll get out of here if I keep letting you help.”

“This shower is really big. Do you often entertain guests while you shower?” He teased, pushing the soapy hair off her shoulder and kissing her at the nape of her neck. Roxanne laughed and shoved him away with her elbow.

“Fan club meetings mostly,” she teased in response. Peter’s laugh filled the small space.

“I’d like to run for president.”

“You need to know my music first,” Roxanne dismissed.

“I have the album you put on my iPod,” Peter protested. Roxanne laughed again as she rinsed her hair.

“That’s true. You could be president of the Star-Lady fan club.” She finished scrubbing her body and rinsed off before stepping from the shower.

“Yeah, how did you come up with the name?” Peter asked as he finished bathing himself. 

“The other idea was Star Princess, and I don’t really fit the princess image,” Roxanne offered as she toweled off. Peter turned the shower off and opened the shower door, taking the towel Roxanne held out to him.

“It’s just weird –“

“Well ‘space girl’ seemed a little juvenile,” Roxanne interrupted.

“No, because my outlaw alias is Star-Lord.” Peter wrapped the towel around his waist and flicked his hands through his hair, spraying water everywhere. Roxanne let out a short bark of laughter.

“Your outlaw alias?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of legendary.” His shoulders puffed up and he looked smug. Roxanne started to giggle.

“Didn’t you say you were a space pirate?” She asked. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“My crew and I just saved the entire galaxy, Rox.” 

“So why is it an outlaw name?” She arched an eyebrow, drawing a wide-toothed comb through her long hair. “Wouldn’t that make you a hero?”

“It’s a long story,” he started and then narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me!”

“I believe you are sexy as hell, and I believe you are from space. What else matters?” Roxanne wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed a kiss to his chest.

“I am a legendary outlaw,” he whined. Roxanne laughed again and broke away.

“Come on, Star-Lord. Let’s get some breakfast.” She exited the bathroom and pulled her closet door open. She picked a light summer dress, and pulled it over her head while Peter collected his clothes and pulled them back on, perching on the edge of the bed. He admired the tailored lines of the dress, pinching in at her waist, accentuating her bust.

“That dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” he commented. She smiled and stepped between his knees. 

“You like it?”

“Do you have anything on under it?” He wondered, and pinched the light gauzy material between his fingers. Roxanne smirked and shook her head.

“I don’t get to wear this dress often. It’s unforgiving. I don’t own any white underwear,” she admitted. Peter groaned and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her waist.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“You wish. I’m starving. You don’t get a round three right now,” Roxanne’s laugh tormented him, and he shook his head, pulling her down on top of him and rolling on top of her. His lips captured hers, his tongue expertly probing the depths of her mouth. She sucked in her breath and forced herself to relax. Peter’s erection pressed against his pants, hard against her thigh, and she shifted her weight enough that he found himself framed between her thighs again, her heels snaking around the backs of his legs.

“I thought you said you were starving,” he asked, breaking the kiss.

“I am.” She was breathless.

“I can stop,” he offered. 

“Just once more, and then breakfast,” she compromised. Peter laughed and reclaimed her mouth, letting her hands work the buttons on his fly free. She pulled his cock free of his pants, and guided him to her opening. He slid into her, losing himself in the moist warmth. His hand slipped between them, fingers finding her clit, and applying gentle pressure in sync with his thrusts. He felt her tightening around him, and she cried out, pushing against him, pulling him back to her. He felt his own orgasm building, and his thrusts became harder until he exploded within her. He collapse to the bed beside her, sweat beaded on his brow.

“Food,” he mumbled.

“Mmmhmm,” she threw on legs across his thigh and fell asleep.

XXX

Roxanne awoke to the scent of bacon.

“Oh my god, he cooks,” she moaned and climbed out of bed, following her nose to the kitchen. Peter was standing in front of the range, pushing a spatula around inside a frying pan full of eggs. There was a pile of toast on a plate beside the stove, and the bacon was snapping on the back element.  
“I remembered how much you ate at breakfast before, and figured I should get started,” he offered, nodding his head toward the coffee maker. The pot was just finished brewing.

“I thought you said you were a slut?” Roxanne commented, stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth as she walked past him toward the coffee. Peter laughed.

“Well yeah. Sluts gotta eat too, Rox,” he shrugged. “And we’re far less likely to have someone cooking a morning after meal because we usually cut and run. So we sluts, we need to be self sufficient.”

“Right. Well, so far your toast and coffee are on the money. When is the protein going to be ready?” Roxanne filled a cup and put it down within reach of Peter. She pulled plates out of the cupboard and set them down on the other side of the stove, and then fished around in the fridge for some fruit to set out as well. Peter pushed some eggs from the pan on to both plates, and then served the bacon as well. He handed Roxanne her plate and she leaned over it, inhaling the rich aroma.

“You can eat it too,” he teased. Roxanne kept her eyes closed and flipped him the flinger.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a meal cooked at home by someone else.” She opened her eyes and dug in.

“Mmm! It smells divine in here, Rox! Did you hire someone to come in and –“ Jinx wandered into the kitchen stopped speaking. He looked from Roxanne, in her rumpled sundress, to Peter, who had a rather fantastic case of bedhead from falling asleep after their shower and burst out laughing. “And who was accusing the other of keeping groupies, Roxanne?”

“Fuck off, Jinx,” Roxanne laughed. Jinx helped himself to a coffee and stole a piece of bacon off Roxanne’s plate.

“Good choice. He cooks. You should keep him.”

“Please excuse my ex-husband, Pete. We divorced for obvious reasons.” Roxanne raised an eyebrow as Jinx sat down at the table with them.

“I suppose he explains why you haven’t answered your phone all morning. Jerry called. He’s demanding to release your Star-Lady album to, as he put it, maximize exposure between albums, and he wants you to consider bringing the lads out on a tour.” Jinx sighed and took a sip of coffee. “Good coffee, mate. Rox always makes battery acid. It’s why she’s less than 3 blocks from a Starbucks at any given time.”

“That’s not true!” Roxanne protested. “We don’t want to tour. I don’t, the astronauts don’t. We’re all busy. And it’s less than two blocks, thank you.”

“I hardly think shagging counts as busy. Bring him along.” Jinx snorted. Roxanne tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

“It’s not considered spousal abuse if I hit you now, is it?” She threatened. Peter choked on his coffee.

“Honestly, Rox, you should do it. Do a small venue tour, donate the money to local children’s science programs, make all of us look amazing. There’s 4 different bands that have play on your side project, and maybe we each take a really small city and bring the whole show in for a huge charity gig.” Jinx shrugged.

“You know that’s not a terrible idea, Jamie. It certainly gives credit credibility to the philanthropy we already do. I wonder if we could get some other big names involved?” Roxanne pondered. She smacked Jinx’s hand as he tried to sneak another piece of bacon. Peter watched the exchange with interest.

“Well, call Jerry when you’ve a chance. He’s desperate to turn my idea into a stadium tour and money making machine. But I think you should stick to our roots, Rox. Remind people of where we came from and what we’ve already given back. Not many bands get to create a legacy anymore.” He stood up and kissed her forehead. He turned and offered his hand to Peter, shaking it firmly. “Lovely to meet you again. If I see you a third time, I’ll even ask your name.”

Jinx left, leaving them in awkward silence, staring at one another. Peter cracked a smile, and then quietly chuckled.

“What?”

“I’m a groupie.” A laugh bubbled up from his throat and he shook his head as he chewed on a slice of bacon.

“Hardly. I wouldn’t let a groupie in my house,” Roxanne corrected. Peter leaned over and kissed her on the side of the head, bumping his hip into hers playfully.

“You’re a rock star and I am a groupie.” He seemed so very satisfied with the stereotype he was playing.

“Or, you’re a spaceman and all earth girls are easy,” Roxanne winked.

“Not all earth girls. Just the one I found.” Peter took another slice of bacon and winked back. Roxanne threw her napkin at him with a screech of amused disgust. “Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“The tour your ex said your manager wants –“

“Jamie made a great point. It’s an opportunity to give back. Give the band a legacy. It’s not something that really happens any more.” Roxanne stabbed at her eggs. “What about you?”

“I’m not a rock star, so I don’t think I’m going on tour or building a legacy.” Peter looked confused.

“But where are you headed next? Your crew isn’t from here, and they wouldn’t really fit in on earth.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Peter drew the words out, like he was worried about his answer.

“Pete?” Roxanne interrupted before he could say anything else.

“Yeah?”

“You’re, uh, cool. And this? Was great. But I don’t expect anything from you.” Roxanne held her hands up in front of her, and shook her head. Peter looked taken back, then cocked a lopsided smile at her.

“Oh, right. I didn’t think that this meant anything. You didn’t think I thought –“

“God no!” Roxanne interrupted, cutting off what was looking to be a very awkward morning-after-the-night-before conversation. Peter let out a deep sigh of what Roxanne assumed to be relief. She let out her own held breath.

“Glad we’re on the same page then. I should probably –“

“Get back to space?” Roxanne interrupted again, and took a sip of what was arguably the best coffee to ever come out of her coffee maker. Peter looked down at his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked back up at her, and something tugged in her chest. He had a vulnerably, puppy-dog look to him.

“Yeah. Space.” He stepped close and threaded his fingers through the hair above her ear, cupping the back of her head and pulling it up to his own to kiss her. Roxanne tensed, then relaxed into responding. “I hope we meet again, Star-Lady.” It was whispered against her lips. The man knew how to make an impression. Space Pirate indeed. Roxanne got the impression he was mostly stealing hearts. He broke away and grabbed his iPod from beside the computer before he turned away toward the patio doors. Roxanne watched him go, admiring his form-fitting pants one more time, wondering if they would ever meet again.

“Pete?” She called. He stopped, hand on the open door, and tilted his heat toward her. “We always have a huge party here on my birthday. You know, if you wanted to pop by again. Update your iPod.” Peter smiled from the doorway and nodded before turning back to the door and heading out. The Milano uncloaked on her lawn, making her wonder if it had been there all night. He stepped up the cargo ramp, and the ship lifted off the lawn as ramp lifted, sealing the breach in the ship.


End file.
